


Gold in the Wreckage

by thebeautifulbadass (2SAM2FURIOUS)



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: But I think i wrote their friendship realistically, Gen, it was really hard to take off the lizvabi shipping goggles while writing this, so i apologize if some of that slipped through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2SAM2FURIOUS/pseuds/thebeautifulbadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz develops a friendship with Samar as she struggles with the realization that she may have feelings for Red.</p><p>PLEASE NOTE: Lizzington is a secondary focus in this fic. The main focus is the Liz/Samar friendship. Just saying that upfront so no one yells at me for being misleading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Meanwhile, I'll just be over here patiently waiting for Jon Bokenkamp to hire me.
> 
> Title comes from "Mine" by Phoebe Ryan.
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely beta and friend HasFar2Go!

Liz placed the last file on top of her stack of completed paperwork. Finally.

It seemed like the paperwork never stopped at the Post Office. At least it was Friday.

She glanced at the time on her phone. Shit, already 8:30pm. So much for going home at a reasonable hour and relaxing for once.

A soft knock at her office door brought her out of her thoughts. Wondering who would still be at the office at this hour, Liz tiredly tossed out, “Yeah?”

The door opened and Samar’s face peeked in with a smile.

“Oh hey, Samar. What are you still doing here?”

“Same as you, I expect. Plenty of paperwork to catch up on.”

“Yep, you caught me. And on a Friday night no less.”

“Well, you finished?”

Liz nodded, sighing out her tension and rolling her shoulders to stretch the muscles.

“Me too,” Samar replied. “I was thinking we could go grab some late dinner and drinks. We deserve to unwind after this week.”

Liz took a moment to consider her options. She was tired and had been looking forward to watching Netflix in her pajamas, but then again, she hadn’t had much of a social life since Raymond Reddington entered her life.

And she liked Samar, she really did. It would be nice to get to know her a little better. Liz had been wary of her at first, but after Samar had been willing to die alone in the airport to protect Liz from the virus, she’d developed a soft spot for her new partner.

Of course, _this_ invitation reminded her of Samar’s last invitation, months and months ago, right after Samar had joined the task force. Quite a bit of time had passed between then and now, and Liz felt terrible that it had apparently taken Samar so long to feel comfortable with approaching her again socially. Remembering how rudely she’d shot Samar down last time, Liz was even more determined to make it up to her now.

She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Samar’s grin brightened her face. “Great! You ready to go?”

Liz glanced down at her phone, disappointment in her gut at the lack of text messages.

“Um, yeah, just give me five minutes? I’ll meet you by the elevator.”

Samar smiled in response before popping her head back out and closing the door.

Liz shut down her computer and made sure her paperwork was neatly stacked in the “Out” bin at the edge of her desk. She stared warily down at her phone, before giving in, leaning back into her chair with a sigh, and unlocking the touch screen.

She tapped the messages icon and stared at his name: Nick’s Pizza. Red. She hadn’t talked to him in a week. She didn’t really know what to say.

She stared at the last few texts they’d exchanged anyway. Well, mostly texts that Red had sent before giving up on receiving any type of response from her.

_"Lizzie, please call me back.”_

The next day: _“Please don’t shut me out over a profoundly foolish mistake.”_

Two days later: _“I shouldn’t have said what I said.”_

Then nothing. It had been four days since his last text.

She was losing her mind. She desperately wanted to respond, but she just didn’t know what she could say at this point.

There was nothing _to_ say.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, startling her out of her reverie.

_“Hurry up, I need alcohol.”_

Liz huffed a tiny chuckle at her co-worker’s enthusiasm.

But yeah, drinks. Drinks would be good. Drinks were just what she needed.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

So much for dinner. Unless you counted nachos and mozzarella sticks as dinner. (Which Liz did, considering her usual unhealthy eating habits.)

Three beers in and the carbs and cheese weren’t soaking in the alcohol fast enough. She was a bit of a lightweight, she supposed. She could feel it. The drinks were making her want to text Red back even more, but they hadn’t magically gifted her with the knowledge of what to say.

For the millionth time that night, Liz pulled her phone out of her bag, checking the screen just to make sure she hadn’t missed a new text from him.

“Okay Liz, what’s up with the phone? You’ve been obsessively checking it all night.”

Liz flushed. “Oh, nothing, just...keeping track of the time, I don’t want to stay out too late.”

Samar could see right through her. Liz could tell even in her buzzed state, by the slight downturn of Samar’s lips and the concerned crease between her brows. And they both knew she was a terrible liar.

Samar quickly shrugged it off, smirking, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I horrible company?”

Liz’s eyes widened. “No, no of course not! This has been really fun. I’m glad we’re spending some time together away from work.”

Samar’s face became serious again, a no-nonsense look emanating from her features. “Then spill. The truth this time.”

Liz groaned and leaned her head forward into her hands, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Samar, I really don’t want to talk about it. I don’t think _we_ should talk about it anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because it involves co-workers and I don’t want to invite the entire office into my business.”

“Reddington?”

Liz’s face flushed immediately. “No. I mean- Look, I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Samar’s features twisted into concern once again. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to push Liz. She had a feeling she knew what was going on though. At least a little bit. Maybe.

Samar sighed and frowned, looking down into her glass of wine. “Okay, if you say so.”

“It’s just, I’m sorry-”

Samar cut her off. “It’s fine, no need to apologize. It’s your life. Just... if you decide you do want to talk about it, you can, you know. With me.”

Liz smiled softly. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, avoiding each other’s eyes, Liz chugging down the last of her beer.

“One more round? Netflix can wait a little longer.” Liz smirked.

Laughing, Samar nodded and flagged down their waiter.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

When Liz arrived home, definitely a little drunk, she decided to forego her Netflix plans, chugged some water, and climbed straight into bed.

She dreamt of Red. Just as she had every night for the past week.

Sometimes they were simple dreams, dreams where his presence was just _there_ , reassuring her. Sometimes she woke confused, unable to remember the dreamed conversations that had left her in her confused state. Sometimes she woke in a cold sweat after dreaming of Red bleeding, gasping, dying.

This one had been pretty simple, nothing distressing or heartbreaking. But she woke with a pounding headache and the certainty that she had to go see him even if she had no clue what she would say when she did.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

She showed up at his apartment, the one that only she, Red, and Dembe knew about. She swallowed and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

Dembe answered, took one look at her, and stepped aside, allowing her entrance without any protest.

She walked with purpose into the living room and found Red sitting on his couch with a book in his hands, his cat in his lap, and glasses perched on his nose.

At the sight of him, Liz had the urge to turn right back around and leave. Why had she even come?

But before she could run, Red turned the page and glanced away from his book long enough to spot her standing in the doorway. He did a double take, a look of surprise on his face. The hand that had been stroking the cat’s head stilled.

“Lizzie.”

She just continued to stand in the doorway, unable to move towards him or speak.

“What are you doing here, Lizzie?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

Red searched her face, the face of someone completely lost. He swallowed and the tic under his eye came to life.

“Lizzie, please know that I never meant for it come out that way. I am terribly sorry for what happened. And I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. And those text messages – you needed space, and I should have respected that.”

Liz just stared at him, a silence stretching between them.

“Lizzie-”

She cut him off abruptly. “I should go, Red. I don’t know why I came. I... I wanted to see you, I guess to say I’m sorry for leaving the way I did, and for ignoring your messages. That was juvenile, but-” She shook her head and turned around, not allowing time for him to respond. “I should go,” she repeated firmly, disappearing through the entry hall, out the door, and out of his apartment building.

Liz slipped into her car, letting out a shaky breath as her forehead inadvertently moved down to rest on the steering wheel. Just then, her phone chirped.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself, fully expecting it to be Red. Hadn’t he just told her he shouldn’t have sent those text messages?

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Samar’s name instead of Nick’s Pizza.

_“Are you alive?”_

Liz chuckled, typing out a quick response: _“Barely.”_

It was the truth, and not just because of the previous night’s alcohol intake.

Her phone buzzed just a few seconds later.

_“Same. Glad you made it home okay.”_

Liz smiled. Maybe the drought in her social life was coming to an end.

_“We should do that again sometime. I had fun.”_ Liz hit send after reading over her reply once.

_“Definitely! See you Monday”_ came Samar’s quick response.

Liz tossed her phone into the passenger seat next to her bag and drove away from Red’s apartment, trying to forget that she had even gone to see him in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Liz’s weekend consisted of cleaning up her motel room, watching Netflix, trying not to think of Red (and failing), and obsessively checking her phone for new text messages. He had said he knew she needed space and that he was sorry for sending those texts. She knew that meant he wouldn’t send anymore, but she couldn’t help but keep checking anyway. _What is wrong with me_ , she thought, kicking herself mentally.

Even worse, the dreams continued on both Saturday and Sunday night. She woke up on Monday morning with a gasp. It had been one of the heartwrenching nightmares - Red lying on the pavement in a puddle of his own blood, gasping for his last breaths, trying to whisper her name.

Red hadn’t come into the Post Office last week. It wasn’t unusual for he and Dembe to leave the country for days at a time without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing. His business was rather secretive after all.

She hoped he would still be away this week. She wasn’t ready to see him again after the events of Saturday morning, and especially not right after that horrific dream.

When she arrived at the office, Aram gave her a confused look. She stopped, gazing back, wondering if she’d forgotten to brush her hair or put on makeup.

“Hey, Liz. Reddington called me about the next name on the list.”

Liz tried to hide her surprise. “Okay, give me a few minutes and you can fill me in.”

“Why did he call me? He always calls you.”

She avoided his gaze. “Who knows what goes on in that man’s mind.” She forced a chuckle before turning to escape to the privacy of her office.

“Whatever you say...” Aram said under his breath, shaking his head, before Liz closed the door behind her.

Ressler wasn’t at his desk. She had the room to herself, at least for a few minutes. She sank into her chair, pulling her phone out of her bag.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

It was a long week. They had managed to take down the blacklister with Red’s assistance, but the team could tell something was going on. Red had avoided talking to Liz as much as possible, opting instead to talk to Cooper or Samar or really anyone else who was around.

Another late Friday night found Liz catching up on paperwork, trying not to think about the non-ringing, non-chirping phone in the bag behind her chair.

After making one too many mistakes on the document in front of her, she gave up with a sigh. The rest of the remaining stack could wait until Monday. Or maybe she would come in on Sunday afternoon. She clearly wasn’t able to do good work tonight.

Liz gathered her jacket and bag, turned out the light, and hurriedly left the week behind her. She was mostly glad to see that everyone else had left already, but a small part of her was disappointed that Samar wasn’t there to distract her like she had been the previous Friday.

On her way home, she grabbed some Chinese takeout for dinner and stopped by Trader Joe’s for some cheap wine. It wasn’t the best, but it would get the job done – the job being not to think about the mess that was her life, at least for a few hours.

She had just settled in for the evening – makeup off, pajamas on, laptop open in front of her, Chinese takeout in her lap – when a soft knock sounded at her motel room door.

She froze. Maybe if she just ignored him, he would go away.

It had to be him. It was always him.

Another knock sounded, a little louder. “Liz, I know you’re in there. Your car is outside.”

Liz sighed with relief. Samar.

She carefully set her takeout containers on the table next to her laptop and quickly reached the door, pulling it open.

Samar was holding the very same bottle of wine Liz had just purchased. Liz turned around, pointing at her bottle, and Samar laughed. “Great minds think alike?” she asked with a shrug.

Liz smiled in response.

“I thought you might like some company. I know this week was a little... strange.”

Liz had never been more thankful for such a simple gesture. Sweet, sweet Samar – she knew that whatever Liz hadn’t told her the week before was still bothering her, she knew that things at work with Red were beyond awkward, and she knew that she didn’t want to talk about it. Liz could tell that Samar was there for support without pushing her to tell her what was going on.

“Thanks, Samar. For understanding.”

Samar brushed past her into the motel room, setting her bottle of wine next to Liz’s already opened bottle on the table.

“What are we watching?” She gave Liz a knowing, sympathetic smile.

Liz shrugged. “I hadn’t decided. Do you have a preference?”

Samar took one look at Liz’s heavy, slumped shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes before making her suggestion. “Something funny?”

Liz grinned, settled back on the couch, and pulled up some old sitcom on Netflix. Samar hadn’t seen it before and she didn’t know what it was about, but she just wanted to be there for her friend. She settled next to her, Liz wordlessly offering her a takeout container.

“Oh, no thanks, I already ate. You go ahead.”

“Here, at least take an egg roll,” Liz said, grabbing the other container off the table and pushing it in Samar’s direction.

Samar took an egg roll from the box and suddenly Liz jumped back up from the couch. “Hold on, I’ll get you a wine glass.”

She returned swiftly and smirked while handing over the glass. “You’re lucky that I even have a second one. I’m clearly not living in luxury here.”

Samar chuckled. “Well, I’m not picky,” she replied, taking it from Liz’s outstretched hand and biting into her egg roll.

They settled in for wine and laughter, an evening of comfortable companionship, words not really needed.

About an hour later, halfway through their wine supply, Liz abruptly turned her head toward Samar, leaning against the back of the couch.

“He told me he loves me.”

Samar’s attention was on the screen and she barely heard Liz’s quiet admission.

After a couple seconds of processing, Samar bent forward to pause Netflix before leaning back into the couch cushions, facing Liz.

She was quiet, allowing Liz to continue at her own pace, to make her own choices about what or what not to reveal.

But Liz didn’t really know what else to say. She got up to retrieve her phone from her bag near the front door.

Still nothing.

She sighed, returning to her place on the couch.

Liz wordlessly went straight to Red’s text messages and handed the phone over to Samar, avoiding her gaze.

Samar took the phone and skimmed over the three text messages. They didn’t really explain much. She cleared her throat, wanting more information but not wanting to force Liz into giving it to her. “Honestly, I can’t really say that I’m surprised.”

Liz’s brows furrowed, her eyes snapping to Samar’s, which were still studying the phone. “What?”

Samar lifted her gaze. When her eyes lit upon Liz’s baffled expression, she snorted, holding back a small laugh.

Liz frowned. “It’s really not funny.”

Samar reached for the second bottle of wine, opening it and pouring two very full glasses before turning back to Liz. “I’m sorry.”

Liz reached out and took a huge gulp from her refilled glass.

Samar snorted again, sipping at her wine. “But it’s kind of funny.”

Liz felt the alcohol flowing through her bloodstream, allowing it to relax her. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, tucking her feet beneath her body. Was it funny? A huff of laughter escaped her and a tiny grin lifted the corners of her mouth. “I guess it’s a little funny. Maybe.”

Samar reached out, placing a hand on Liz’s knee, giving a small squeeze of support. She sighed. “I’m not making light of it, I promise. I’m just saying that I kind of suspected that he had feelings for you. This whole situation was too bizarre, you know? It kind of makes more sense if you add feelings into the equation.”

Liz nodded, looking down at Samar’s hand on her knee. She leaned her head on the back of the couch, staring at the ugly, warped motel ceiling. It could definitely use a good cleaning.

She reached one hand out, placing it over Samar’s as a silent thank you.

Liz closed her eyes, trying not to focus on her uncertainty over whether or not she should have told Samar anything.

Silence stretched between them for a minute, before Samar took a deep breath.

“Do you-”

Liz knew what she was asking immediately. “No,” she replied, blushing, not letting Samar finish her question.

Samar was quiet for a moment. She could feel Liz’s tension and could practically hear the wheels spinning in her mind.

“I don’t know,” Liz whispered.

Samar kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt Liz’s thoughts.

Slightly above a whisper, Liz repeated, “I don’t know. I mean, I keep having these... these dreams.” She swallowed. Her eyes were still closed. She was afraid of opening them and seeing whatever expression was on Samar’s face. Would it be disgust? Was she trying not to laugh? Or would it be disappointment?

Liz forced her eyes open and shifted her head a little toward Samar.

She didn’t see disgust, judgment, or disappointment in her friend’s expression. Just a caring concern. Tears came into Liz’s eyes and she took a deep breath, blinking them away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- This is ridiculous, I....” Liz trailed off.

Samar squeezed her knee again. “It’s not ridiculous,” she replied gently.

“Thank you,” Liz whispered.

After a few moments of silence, Samar spoke up again. “You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to. But I’m here for you if you _do_ want to.”

A tear escaped despite her best efforts, and Liz wiped it away with the hand that wasn’t covering Samar’s.

She tried to smile at her friend, to show that she was oh so grateful for her presence, before staring at the ceiling again. She decided it couldn’t get any worse. She could tell Samar more.

Liz cleared her throat. “Every single night since it happened, he’s been there in my dreams. Sometimes he’s just... _there_. Sometimes we have conversations that leave me utterly confused in the morning, unable to remember what happened. And other times...” she trailed off. “Other times they’re horrible nightmares, with Red bleeding, whispering my name as he’s dying.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “I don’t know what it means, Samar. I don’t know what any of it means,” she finished, releasing a deep, shaking breath.

A wave of emotions came crashing down on her, and she leaned forward pulling her hands to her face, leaning her elbows on her thighs, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Samar didn’t really think anything she said could help Liz at the moment, so she just scooted closer, leaving one hand on her friend’s knee and lifting the other to gently trace soothing patterns on Liz’s upper back. She could tell Liz was trying hard not to cry.

“Liz, look at me,” Samar said gently, firmly.

Liz lifted her head from her hands and met Samar’s gaze, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She wouldn’t let them out, she couldn’t.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. About any of this.” She gave Liz a supportive smile.

“Well, I am,” Liz replied.

Samar huffed a chuckle under her breath. “Don’t be. He’s incredibly handsome.”

Liz let out a genuine, surprised laugh, leaning into Samar’s shoulder as a few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

Samar maneuvered her arm to more tightly wrap around her friend, resting her hand on Liz’s upper arm. “And I was being serious. It’s obvious that he cares about you. He loves you. That’s hard to resist. So don’t be embarrassed.”

“Even if I’m not embarrassed... it’s not _good_. We work together. I’m an FBI agent. He’s a fucking most-wanted criminal!” Liz’s voice was getting louder and more panicked as she continued.

“I know. It’s complicated. Just... don’t think about that right now. Think about what you even want. It’s only a problem if you pursue it,” Samar reasoned, quickly adding, “And I’m not saying you _shouldn’t_ pursue it. Not at all. I just want you to think about it. And be sure of what you want before you make a decision.”

Liz nodded and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling while wiping the wetness from her cheeks. She covered Samar’s hand with her own again and finally looked her friend in the eyes before leaning back into the cushions again. “Oh god,” she sighed, trying to release the anxiety in her chest. “Well. I’m really glad I told you. I feel _slightly_ more sane now,” she chuckled.

Samar huffed a laugh in return, grabbed Liz’s wine glass, and pushed it toward her. “Here, more alcohol.” Liz took the glass from her, smiling. “But first, let me hide your phone,” Samar continued, grabbing Liz’s phone from the table and pushing it behind the pillows on her end of the couch, out of Liz’s immediate reach.

Liz started laughing, hard, more tears forming in her eyes. She couldn’t stop. It felt so good to laugh with a friend.

_A friend._

Liz’s laughter was contagious, and soon Samar joined in, until they almost forgot why they were laughing in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Liz awoke the next morning to the sound of her phone dinging from the couch where Samar had hidden it the night before.

She got up to retrieve it and blinked a few times to clear her sleep-blurred vision. Samar’s name came into focus and she grinned.

_“Hey, just wanted to let you know that I don’t have much of anything going on this weekend, so if you want to talk things through let me know. I know you need time to think, but I’m free if you need me.”_

Liz’s smile widened and she quickly typed back, _“You’re amazing. Thanks for everything, Samar.”_

Suddenly Liz realized she had no memory of any dream whatsoever from the previous night. Their girls’ night, along with the cheap wine, had helped calm her anxiety somewhat. Apparently at least enough to have a good night’s sleep for once.

She set her phone next to her laptop on the table where she’d left it and hopped in the shower. Under the spray of the hot water, her thoughts seemed to come untangled and she knew she needed to talk to Red. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do exactly yet, but she needed to sort things out.

After her shower, she walked straight back to her phone and sat on the couch wrapped in her towel, hair dripping on the cushions behind her.

_“Red, I’m sorry for being so distant. I shouldn’t have left that way last weekend, or the weekend before. I know you had been drinking, I know you didn’t want any of this to happen this way. I’m sorry. Can we be professional and civil toward each other this week at work, please? I need some more time to think things through, but maybe we can talk next weekend.”_

She stared at the words she’d typed, rereading them over and over again before forcing herself to hit send.

She closed her eyes, releasing a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Upon reopening her eyes, she couldn’t stop staring at her phone. She watched it for minutes straight. She had to get out of her motel room and focus on something else or she would go insane.

After getting dressed and ready for the day, she grabbed her notebook and a pen, stuffing them in her bag along with her sunglasses. She glanced at her phone on the table. She shouldn’t take it. She should leave it behind.

But she gave in, dropping it into her bag, making a deal with herself that she wouldn’t take it out unless she heard proof of a text message or an incoming call.

She drove to her favorite coffee shop, ordered a latte, and continued on her way downtown. She grumbled at the lack of parking, wishing she had taken the metro or the bus, but eventually she found a bench along the National Mall, shaded by pink cherry blossoms.

Liz sipped at her latte, grateful for the warm spring weather. Maybe nature would help her figure out what to do. Maybe the city’s monuments and its vast history would give her some perspective. She set her drink next to her on the bench along with her bag and crossed her legs, staring out at the circle of flags fluttering in the wind around the Washington Monument.

Raymond Reddington was a criminal.

She knew the number of people he had killed was so high it had probably become impossible to count. But she also knew that he had turned himself in to the FBI in order to help her see her marriage and husband for what they were, to save her from a man she hadn’t even known was dangerous.

She knew he had a past before his criminal history began. She knew he had loved before, had been married before, had had a daughter, a family.

Maybe he hadn’t had a choice. Maybe he had had to become who he is today in order to survive.

Hadn’t she changed in the past two years, not necessarily for the better? Yes, a lot of it was due to Red himself, but he had also been trying to help her. Behind the monstrous persona, he was just a human being like everyone else.

Hadn’t she become a profiler because she wanted to understand how criminals’ minds worked? And she did understand now. She understood that criminals weren’t all black and white. Especially Raymond Reddington.

Red was very, very _gray_.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

That night’s dream was a nightmare. Filled with Red and his blood and his dying breaths and his whispered _Lizzie_ s.

But it was different this time.

This time, Liz could see herself next to him, holding his hand, talking to him, urging him to hold on, begging him not to leave her.

She awoke with a gasp, tears filling her eyes.

Liz quickly grabbed her phone from the nightstand and tapped out a message to Samar.

_“Can I take you up on your offer today?”_

She checked the time. Shit, it wasn’t even 8am yet. Samar was probably sleeping. It was Sunday, after all.

But a response came within two minutes, and Liz sighed with relief.

_“Of course, just say when and where.”_

_“9:30 at the diner in Silver Spring. We can grab breakfast. Does that work for you? Sorry if I woke you, I didn’t realize it was so early.”_

_“I’ll be there. And no need to apologize, I was already awake.”_

Liz sighed, dropped her phone to the bed beside her, and tried to wrap her mind around her dream. Around everything, really.

She pushed herself up and walked to the shower. Maybe meeting Samar in a public place would help keep her emotions in check.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Liz arrived at the diner ten minutes early and, to her surprise, found Samar already waiting for her, sitting in a corner booth far removed from the few other customers scattered throughout the establishment.

Liz smiled. “You’re early.”

Samar shrugged but didn’t say anything.

Liz practically collapsed into the seat across from her with a frustrated groan.

“Was it a dream?” Samar asked softly.

Liz eyed her friend for a moment. “Are you psychic or something?”

Samar huffed a laugh. “No, just an educated guess. You texted me at 7:20 on a Sunday morning when most people in our line of work would be enjoying their chance to sleep in.”

“Touché,” Liz replied with a slight frown.

“You didn’t wake me up though,” Samar quickly assured her. “I have insomnia. Sleeping in doesn’t exist for me.”

“Well, it doesn’t exist for me either. Hasn’t for, oh, about two years,” Liz replied, a sad smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Their waiter stopped by and they ordered coffee, pancakes, eggs, and bacon before lapsing into an expectant silence.

“So. Your dream,” Samar prompted.

Liz sighed, running a hand through her hair. “My dream.”

She paused, glancing around, aware of their public location, before starting in a low voice. “My dream was... terrible. Worse than usual.”

Samar just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I mean, it was the same as always. Red dying, bleeding on the ground, gasping and whispering my name. But there was a slight variation.”

She looked down as the waiter set their cups of coffee in front of them, leaving a carafe on the edge of the table.

Good, they would be needing plenty of refills.

“I was there with him. It was like... I was watching myself, there on the ground next to him.” She gulped. “Holding his hand,” she continued, quieter. “I was begging him, pleading with him, telling him to please, please, hold on, that he couldn’t leave me-”

Liz’s voice broke on the last word and she took a deep breath, leaning her face into her hand.

Samar’s voice was gentle. “Is that how you feel? You don’t want him to leave you?”

Liz looked into her friend’s eyes for a few seconds before reluctantly nodding. “Yes,” she whispered, the urge to cry forming in the back of her throat. “I know it’s crazy, I know he’s done horrible things, but he’s not a horrible person, you know? He’s not. He’s just a _human being_ who did what he had to do to survive.” She lowered her voice even further. “Would a truly bad person turn himself into the FBI to save me from my own husband?” She shook her head. “No. He’s obviously cared about me for a long time. He cares about my safety more than his own. He would die for me, Samar. He would. I _know_ he would.”

Liz stopped, unable to continue.

Samar reached out to Liz’s free hand, resting on the table next to her cup of coffee, and locked her fingers with Liz’s, holding on tight.

“I don’t disagree with you,” Samar finally replied.

“And he told me he loved me. I mean, he was drunk and he didn’t mean to say it, but...he meant what he said, I could tell.”

Samar stayed quiet, letting Liz work through her thoughts.

“How long has he loved me? Why did he surrender himself to the FBI _for me_? Did he love me before I even knew he existed? I’m so confused. I don’t know what to believe. I know he was telling the truth, but I don’t.... I just don’t understand any of it.”

Samar breathed out a concerned sigh. She was just as confused as the lost woman sitting across from her. “I’m not going to lie to you, Liz. None of us fully understand what’s between you two. But the love is obvious. The why? The when? Not so obvious. But isn’t the love what’s most important here? The love itself. He _loves_ you.”

Liz swallowed roughly, tightening her grip on Samar’s hand. She couldn’t meet her eyes as she confessed in a whisper, “I think I love him too.”

Samar stared at Liz until she looked up at her, meeting her gaze. She could see trepidation and even shame in her friend’s eyes. Samar gave her a real smile, filled with truth and support. “I know you do. I was just waiting for you to figure it out.”

Liz laughed a little, blinking away the sting of threatening tears. “So you _are_ psychic,” she replied, a small grin on her face.

“No, but I do have eyes,” Samar smirked.

Liz snorted. “That obvious, huh?”

Samar shrugged, grinning.

“God, I feel like such an idiot,” Liz admitted with a sigh.

Samar shook her head, furrowing her brow. “You shouldn’t. It’s an incredibly complicated situation. It was only obvious to me because I’m an outsider.” She tilted her head, adding “An observant outsider.”

Liz grinned at Samar, looking into her eyes. “I don’t know, I still say you’re psychic. You asked me to go get drinks with you when I really...” She trailed off, her eyes wandering to the carafe at the edge of the table before resolutely returning her gaze to Samar. “I really needed a friend. And you knew. Somehow.”

Samar squeezed her hand. She could feel herself tearing up, and she was glad because it meant that Liz could see the evidence that this meant a lot to her as well.

Once she was sure that their silent conversation had been understood on both ends, Samar lightened the mood. “We were bound to become friends eventually, with just the two of us girls in that meat locker of an office.”

Liz’s body was overtaken with laughter, which made Samar beam and chuckle. She disentangled her hand from Samar’s and hid her face in her hands trying to contain her glee. The waiter brought their breakfast over, making a quick escape from the hysterical laughter and lingering tears.

After a minute, Liz calmed down, clutching her stomach. “Seriously. I’ve laughed more this weekend than I have in... I don’t even know how long. Awhile.”

Samar smirked. “Two years?”

Liz nodded her head with a grin. “Probably about two years, yes.” She dug into her eggs and bacon, Samar following suit with her pancakes.

After a few minutes of silent eating, Liz refilled her coffee and Samar’s and took a long gulp, before clearing her throat. She paused with a piece of bacon in her hand, looking back at Samar.

“Thank you.” Liz’s voice came out small, almost childlike. Samar looked up from her plate and the sincere expression on Liz’s face made it hard to swallow her mouthful of syrupy pancake.

Liz smiled and bit into the piece of bacon in her hand, her eyes still on Samar’s face.

“Anytime.” Samar replied, her voice both quiet and strong.

They finished their meals in comfortable silence. When every bite of food was gone, they sat back, full, digesting quietly for a couple minutes before Samar began searching Liz’s face curiously.

“So. Do you…know what you’re going to do? Do you have a plan?” Samar asked hesitantly.

“Kind of. Maybe,” Liz replied, unsure.

Samar waited patiently.

_Damn, she’s good_ , thought Liz. She knew just when to push and when to sit back and listen.

Liz sighed. “I texted him yesterday.”

Without hesitation, Samar asked, “Did he reply?”

Liz’s face drooped. “No. Surprisingly.”

Samar frowned slightly. “What did you say?”

“The gist? I told him I understand that none of this was his intention, I apologized for acting so immature… I said I needed some more time to think things through, suggested we meet next weekend to talk, and asked if we could try to be...” She paused, searching for the right word. “...normal, at work this week, in front of everyone.”

Samar nodded approvingly. “Seems reasonable. He’s probably just giving you the space you requested.”

Liz nodded in understanding, worry evident in her features.

“No need to worry. Promise.”

“There you go with your psychic abilities again. How can you possibly make that promise if you’re not psychic?” Liz smirked.

Samar let out a surprisingly loud burst of laughter. “Okay, okay, I don’t _promise_ , per se. But trust me, your observant friend is fairly certain that everything will be fine.” She smiled reassuringly at Liz, before turning her eyes to the waiter and taking the check from him.

Standing up from her booth seat, Samar tossed back over her shoulder, “I’ve got this one.” She could tell Liz was about to protest, so she quickly added, “No arguments. You can buy me a drink or two next weekend if it’ll make you feel better,” before heading up to the cashier at the front of the diner.

Liz smiled to herself, filled with gratitude for this newfound friendship, before grabbing her bag and trailing after Samar.

Outside, before parting ways, Samar stopped and pulled Liz into a swift embrace, clutching her tightly.

“Keep me posted, okay?” she whispered near Liz’s ear after a moment.

Feeling Liz nod her head in response, Samar pulled away, her hands remaining on Liz’s shoulders, her grip strong. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Liz smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

Liz had turned to walk away when she heard Samar quip, “Sleep well tonight. Don’t let the Red bugs bite.” She turned slightly to look back, snorting with a dumbfounded, amused look on her face.

“Okay, sorry, that was a truly atrocious pun. Pretend I didn’t say anything.” Samar covered her face with one hand, slightly embarrassed, her mouth twisting into an amused grimace.

“Atrocious, yes. But actually fairly clever.” Liz smirked at Samar, before walking off in the direction of her car.

Samar watched her for a few seconds, then turned away and crossed the street.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday came and went with no word from Red.

And Tuesday.

And Wednesday.

Liz tried not to worry – he probably just had to leave town for business, to meet with associates or something.

She was unsuccessful. She wished he would at least answer her text message.

But Thursday and Friday passed and still nothing.

By the end of the week, her worry had morphed into something resembling anger. At 5:30, she decided that work could suck it, grabbed her bag and jacket, and marched to Samar’s office.

Without bothering to knock, she swung the door open. “Drinks?”

Samar took one look at the storm on her friend’s face and shut off her computer.

They ended up at a small neighborhood Mexican restaurant. An hour of chips, salsa, and margaritas later, Liz’s phone vibrated to life on the table in front of them. They had silently agreed on leaving the phone in sight. There would be no hiding phones or pretending everything was fine tonight.

Nick’s Pizza.

“Oh god,” Liz breathed, slightly shocked. She hadn’t actually been expecting a response at this point.

“It’s him?” Samar asked, eyes widening.

Liz nodded, eyes glued to the phone as she swiped across the screen and opened her messages.

_“Lizzie - I’ve been away on business. I apologize for the delay in response. Please let me know if you would still like to talk this weekend.”_

Without a word, Liz handed the phone to Samar. She needed another set of eyes, another mind, because hers seemed to have stopped functioning.

Quickly scanning the short text, Samar’s eyes widened even further. “Okay, well. He answered. See? I told you. Nothing to worry about.”

Liz gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re joking right? Yeah yeah, he’s fine. But now I actually have to _talk_ to him.”

Samar chuckled under her breath. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

Liz groaned, knowing her friend was right. “Shit,” she whispered.

She reached for her phone, and Samar handed it over. “Answer. Now. You need to know when this is happening so you can stop worrying.”

“Samar-”

Samar cut her off. “Do it. If you don’t text him back, I will.”

Liz glared at her friend for a few seconds before sighing and reluctantly typing out a response. She paused with her thumb hovering above ‘send.’

“Pull off the bandaid, Liz.”

Liz rolled her eyes, pressing send.

She dropped her phone on the table as if it were burning her fingers. She didn’t want it anywhere near her.

Samar eyed the phone before looking back at Liz with a glint in her eye and a grin spreading across her face. “Shall we strategize?”

“If we must,” Liz sighed, sounding less than enthusiastic.

“We must.”

“Yes, because you forced me to text him back.”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame me, you’re the one who suggested meeting with him this weekend. It’s not my fault he said yes.”

Liz winced. “Sorry. I’m just... more than a little nervous.”

“I know. It’s okay. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Liz looked at her blankly.

“At all?”

Liz’s blank look continued before she groaned again.

“I know what I _want_ to say but I also know that I shouldn’t say it.”

“We’ve been over this. Listen to your heart, not your mind.”

“You’re just full of clichés,” Liz replied.

“What can I say? I’m good with clichés. And honestly? Clichés are clichés for a reason. You should probably listen to them.”

“I need more alcohol. Then and only then can we discuss this further.” Liz smiled to show her friend that her firm tone wasn’t meant to be hostile.

Samar started to get up, but Liz stopped her. “Nope, this round’s on me. Remember?”

Liz returned with a pitcher rather than two refills.

Samar snorted. “Time to get down to business, I see.”

Liz shot her a look. “If we’re going to do this, I need this pitcher of margaritas by my side.”

Samar lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m certainly not complaining.” She took the pitcher, pouring full glasses for each of them.

Samar sipped at her margarita quietly, wanting to make sure Liz had plenty of time to gather her thoughts.

Liz, rather, gulped at hers, allowing her mind to sort through things as best she could.

She knew she cared about Red. Maybe even loved him. But was that enough?

She remembered herself in that horrifying nightmare from the previous weekend. Clutching his hand, afraid of letting go, terrified that if she relaxed her grip by even a fraction he would disappear. _Please don’t leave me. Just hold on. Please._ Dream-Liz’s words echoed in her head.

She thought of all the times he’d held her, comforted her. All the times he’d been there for her without question, even when she had been yelling at him, saying awful things to him, about him.

She grimaced. God, why had she said such awful things? He had been trying to help her, to save her, to protect her from the stranger sleeping in her bed and god knows what else. With her newfound knowledge of his apparent love, she felt even worse.

She tried to see the events of the past two years through his eyes. Not the eyes of Reddington the criminal. Through the eyes of the human being, the man in love.

She had to admit, it did make more sense.

Liz closed her eyes, trying to focus her attention on her own emotions. She remembered going to his apartment that night, the night he had drunkenly professed his love for her. Why had she even gone to see him that night?

She remembered drinking a glass of wine, settling in for a night of Netflix by herself in her motel room. She remembered crying. She had told herself she was crying because of whatever sad movie she was watching, but she knew she was lying to herself. She had really been crying for everything she had lost, all the things she thought she had before Red came into her life and turned everything upside down.

She had been crying because she was so, so lonely.

And she had gone to Red’s apartment because she didn’t know where else to go. She had known he would comfort her because that’s what he always did.

Had she gone to him out of necessity? Because she had no one else? It was true, she didn’t. But honestly? She had just wanted him to hold her close, to stroke her hair, to make her feel safe.

God, that was ironic. The FBI’s fourth most wanted was the one person who made her feel safe.

Now she had Samar too. But she definitely hadn’t memorized the shape of Samar’s lips the way she had Red’s.

She shut out the noise of the restaurant around them and tried to imagine what she would have felt if she hadn’t stopped Red’s drunken attempt to kiss her that night. What she would feel if he tried to kiss her again, sober, warm, soft. Safe.

_Shit._

Liz pushed herself out of her chair, legs shaking.

Samar had been waiting patiently, but now she seemed startled. “Where are you going?”

“I need to see him. Right now. If I wait ‘til tomorrow I’ll overthink it, I’ll talk myself out of it, I’ll... I need to go.” She turned abruptly, walking toward the exit.

Samar jumped up and followed after her. “Liz, wait. Let me come with you. Talk to me on the way.”

Liz looked back at her. “Yeah, sure. Fine,” she replied, distracted.

Samar followed her out into the night air, frowning. “You’re slightly drunk right now, Liz. Definitely more drunk than I am, and I need to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m going to tell him-”

Samar cut her off. “I know what you’re going to tell him. But are you sure you want to have that conversation drunk?”

Liz swallowed, looking thoughtful. “I’m not that drunk, Samar. Just buzzed. I know what I’m doing,” she replied in a quiet, serious tone.

Samar looked into her friend’s eyes for a moment, searching for the awareness Liz would need in order to talk to Red. Finding what she was looking for, she gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” A cab stopped at the curb and Liz walked over to get in, but she paused when a sudden realization washed over her. “Shit. You can’t come with me. This place, you can’t know about it. He would be furious. _I’m_ not even supposed to know about this place. I trust you, but I can’t break Red’s trust in this.”

Samar nodded decisively in understanding. “He’s secretive, I get it.”

Liz got into the cab, but before she could close the door, Samar stuck her hand out to hold it still, a worried smile on her face. “Please, please text me or call me. As soon as you can. I may have a more sleepless night than usual.”

Liz gave her a reassuring smile in return. “You’ll be the first to know how it goes,” she promised, before gently shutting the door.

Samar watched the cab drive off before getting in one of her own. She didn’t particularly want to go home. But she would. She would go home, make some dinner (those chips and salsa weren’t enough), and make sure her phone was with her at all times.

She pulled it out of her bag and held it tightly in her hand.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Liz’s cab was driving through the city streets toward the address of Red’s apartment in Bethesda.

She couldn’t lose her nerve. Not now.

She took deep breaths, trying to hold on to the feeling of absolute certainty that had struck her at the restaurant.

Certainty that there was nowhere else she wanted to be other than in that infuriating man’s arms, nothing she wanted more than to finally know what his lips would feel like on her own.

Finally, the cab pulled over in front of the unremarkable apartment building that Red apparently called home. She handed the driver her fare and took a deep breath, looking up at his window, soft light spilling through the hazy curtains, before she opened the car door.

The walk to the front door was a blur. She could barely think straight from the nerves.

Once inside, she drew in a shaky breath outside the door to his apartment, before gathering the courage to knock.

She heard movement from behind the old slab of heavy wood. To her surprise, Red himself answered the door. Dembe was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t exactly been expecting that.

But there was Red.

_Red_.

“Lizzie? I thought we were meeting tomorrow.” Red asked, somewhat bewildered.

She swallowed. “Yeah, I, uh- I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, shaking.

Red’s brows furrowed, but he stepped back from the door. “Alright. Please come in.”

Liz walked through the entry hallway and turned to face him.

“Would you like to sit? I can make some tea.” Red offered.

Liz shook her head. “No, no, that’s okay.” She needed to say it, to get it out.

_Say it._

“I’m sorry, Red. I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I was just... surprised. _More_ than a little surprised.” She let out a breathy, humorless laugh filled with emotion.

He tried to speak, but she pushed forward. She needed to continue.

“I’ve been incredibly stupid, and blind apparently. Because...” she broke off, his eyes glued to her flushed face.

“I love you too, Red. I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out, I’m sorry if I put you through hell, but I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I don’t care what anyone thinks of this, of us. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. I know you’re a good man. And I’m so sorry for all the terrible things I’ve said to you over the past two years. The way I’ve treated you has been unforgivable at times. And now I know that everything you’ve done for me was out of love... I feel even worse now. I feel _awful_. You were just trying to protect me-” She paused to try to regain control over her quickly spiraling-out-of-control emotions, but hurried to continue before Red could interrupt her train of thought. She could tell he was stunned, but she couldn’t risk the interruption.

“I know you didn’t mean to tell me about your feelings. You were drunk. But you did, it’s done, and you know what? That night is what made me realize that all I want is to kiss you, Red. That night made me realize that _I love you_.”

She stopped, unable to continue. She didn’t really know what else there was to say. He just stared at her, frozen in place by the front door.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, Liz began moving her feet toward him. She needed to reach out and touch him, to know that her speech had actually been heard by its intended audience. To know he was actually standing in front of her, hearing her words.

But suddenly, Red lifted his hands in front of his chest, silently imploring her to stop.

She stiffened, her heartbeat in her throat.

“Lizzie...” He trailed off.

“Red, please don’t say something stupid right now. I can tell you’re about to say something absolutely, 100% idiotic,” Liz managed to breathe out, slowly shaking her head back and forth.

They searched each other’s faces. Liz could feel tears gathering in her eyes and she hurriedly blinked them back.

“Lizzie, it wasn’t just that I was drunk. I _never_ intended to inform you of my feelings.”

Liz was having trouble breathing.

Red continued, clearly upset. “You don’t love me, Lizzie. You can’t. I am _dangerous_. You would never be safe with me. Your safety is the most important thing. Do you understand that? You must be safe-”

Amidst a furious sob, Liz managed to choke out, “You make me feel safe. _You_ do. Only you, Red, you-” She wasn’t making any sense, she couldn’t form coherent sentences. She was on the verge of panicking.

Red interrupted. “I can’t, Lizzie. I cannot be your safety. I should never have entered your life. I should have left as soon as Tom was gone. I am so deeply sorry if I’ve hurt you, but this wasn’t supposed to _happen_ , damn it, you were never supposed to _know_ -” His voice was rising in anger – anger at himself, anger at Tom, anger at all his mortal enemies that were keeping him from being with his Lizzie. “You don’t love me, Lizzie,” he repeated. “I ruined everything. I swear to god, I’m never drinking again. You were _fine_ two weeks ago, you were happy, you’re desperate-”

Liz cut him off angrily. “Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence. Don’t you _fucking_ _dare_. You think I was happy? I’ve been miserable since you entered my life, Reddington. Absolutely miserable. A _mess_. The night I came over here? I came because I needed you. I was alone in that shitty motel room sobbing because I had _never_ felt more alone, but then I remembered that I had you, Red. That does _not_ make me desperate, do you hear me? Stop trying to invalidate my feelings for you to make yourself feel better. Just _stop_. Don’t you _dare_ tell me how to feel.” A sob rose in her throat, cutting off any remaining words she had left in her, and she briefly brought her hand to her mouth to try to hold it in as best she could.

Red frowned at her, his eyes glistening. She had never seen him this vulnerable before. She didn’t want to see anymore of it.

Liz pushed past him to the door. He tried to reach out to keep her from opening it, but the look she gave him cut him straight through to the bone, to the gut, and he stepped back to let her leave.

Liz ran down the hallway, down the flights of stairs, out of the building. She never wanted to see this damn place again.

She couldn’t stop running. She ran down the street, block after block, turning left, right, left, right, running, running, running, until she could feel the chilly night air stinging against the wet tracks on her cheeks.

She stopped, gasping for breath, the sobs wracking her body making it difficult. Looking around, she could tell she was on a residential street, but it was urban enough to have benches at least. She forced her exhausted body over to a bench and collapsed into it heavily.

The sound of her phone ringing startled her on the quiet, empty street where she was alone with her thoughts. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket.

When she saw his name, she released an involuntary wail of frustration. She felt her chest ache, like he was reaching through the city blocks between them, grabbing and twisting her already bruised heart. Filled with pain and disgust, she declined the call, her finger pressing down on the fragile screen with more force than necessary.

She stared at her phone, unmoving. Unable to put it back in her pocket. Unable to do anything but stare at the notification on the screen: _‘1 missed call from Nick’s Pizza’_

She was angry. God, she was so angry. But damn, she was hurt just as deeply. She had never even considered this a possible outcome. Not last weekend at the diner. Not over the past week while she fruitlessly waited for his text message response. Not over margaritas with Samar. Not on her way to see him tonight.

Not once.

Suddenly, the sight of the phone in her trembling hand caused her to remember her promise to Samar earlier in the evening.

Liz had told her she would be the first to know, after all.

With shaking fingers, she found Samar’s name in her contacts and called her. She wasn’t even conscious of the tears streaming down her cheeks at this point, the pounding headache forming behind her eyes, the inability to breathe normally. She just wanted to hear her friend’s voice.

Samar picked up on the second ring. “Liz?”

Liz couldn’t speak, she couldn’t. She just let out a ragged breath, coupled with a muffled sob.

“Liz? What happened?”

“Oh god, Samar. Oh god,” she whispered. She could feel herself crying harder at the sound of her friend’s concern.

“Where are you?” Samar asked firmly.

“I don’t know. Some- somewhere in Bethesda. On a bench. I couldn’t- I left- I-” Another sob escaped from her throat, cutting her off.

Samar’s rational, calm voice cut through the chaos in her mind. “Liz, look at the map on your phone and tell me where you are. I’m leaving my apartment now.”

Liz took a deep breath, thankful for Samar’s functioning brain, and replied, “Oh, right, hold on,” while checking her current location.

“Elm and Denton. I’m-” She paused, twisting to take in her surroundings. “I’m across from a blue house. There’s a park down the street.”

Liz could hear Samar’s muffled voice repeating her location. “I’m already in a cab. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t go anywhere.”

Liz laughed stiffly through her tears. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” she muttered. It was silent for a few seconds. “Thank you, Samar. Thanks. I-”

“I know. You don’t need to say anything.”

Liz allowed herself a tiny smile. “Okay,” she whispered before hanging up the phone, clutching it tightly in her hand.

Ten minutes later, Liz saw headlights turn onto the street from the end of the block. She turned to look at the bright halos moving toward her. The cab slowed to a stop a few feet from her bench and she stood up.

Samar jumped out of the car, a frantic, frightened expression transforming her features.

Liz couldn’t move. She was embarrassed. She didn’t like crying in front of people, but god, she didn’t want to be alone after... _that_. Whatever _that_ was.

Luckily, before she could say anything, Samar was already standing in front of her, pulling her in close. Liz dropped her head onto Samar’s shoulder, throwing her arms around her, crushing her, practically collapsing in her embrace.

The tears, the sobs, had abated somewhat between the phone call and Samar’s arrival, but now they were back full force.

Liz broke down in her friend’s arms, a mixture of tears and snot soaking through the shoulder of Samar’s thin jacket.

Samar didn’t say anything. She just held her, no questions asked, until every ounce of energy, emotion, and tears had drained from Liz’s body.

Liz wasn’t sure how long she had been crying in her friend’s arms, but as her breathing slowed and the tears gradually stopped, she felt a pang of shame at her outburst. Unwilling to meet Samar’s gaze, she allowed her forehead to remain buried in her friend’s shoulder, hands still clutching at Samar’s back for support.

Noticing that Liz had calmed somewhat, Samar smoothed her hand over her friend’s hair and, without pulling back, understanding Liz’s need to keep her face hidden, breathed near her ear, “Let’s go back to my apartment. I asked the cab to wait.”

She could feel Liz nod against her shoulder. She pulled away slightly, and Liz looked down.

“Come on,” Samar suggested gently, tugging Liz’s arm toward the waiting cab.

Liz followed her into the car, but refused to look at her. She gazed out the window, unseeing, as Samar told the driver to return to where had had picked her up. As they passed through streets filled with quiet houses, soft streetlights, the occasional squirrel, all Liz could see was Red’s vulnerable face when she had run out the door. She wondered what he was doing now.

Samar had been watching Liz quietly. When she heard a new hitch in Liz’s breath and saw her attempting to dry her face, she reached across the empty middle seat without hesitation and took hold of Liz’s free hand, gripping it firmly.

Liz finally looked at Samar, eyes glistening, cheeks red and blotchy, chunks of falling hair sticking to the wet trails of tears.

“Sorry,” Liz whispered.

“What on earth are you apologizing for?” Samar asked softly, dumbfounded.

Liz gestured up and down her body with her free hand and cleared her throat to speak. “Look at me. I’m pathetic. Weak. We just started getting to know each other two weeks ago, and all I’ve done is cry and complain. Hell, getting to know each other isn’t even the right way of putting it, because I’ve barely learned anything about you. I’m a terrible friend. I’m selfish. Jesus... I’m sorry.”

Samar frowned and spoke in a kind, but firm voice. “Elizabeth. You can be vulnerable without being weak. You’ve been dealing with... _insanity_ , complete and utter shit, for two years- for some unknown reason, life is... it’s fighting you, trying to _make_ you weak and pathetic. But you have _never stopped fighting back, Liz_. _Not once_. _”_ She paused to let that sink in. “You’re allowed to cry sometimes. This?” She gestured between them. “This does not make you weak and pathetic. It makes you human.”

Liz leaned her head back against the headrest, gazing at the dirty ceiling of the cab. She took a deep breath, not even trying to fight the fresh wave of tears tracing the still-wet paths left on her cheeks.

Samar continued. “And we have plenty of time for you to get to know me. You’re not being selfish. Not at all.”

Liz closed her eyes and smiled tightly, her head still leaning back. She squeezed Samar’s hand. “I’m still sorry. That all you’ve dealt with for weeks is _this_ lovely version of me.”

Samar squeezed back. “We all have rough patches. Plus, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Liz snorted through her tears. “Again with the clichés,” she joked.

“And what did I tell you about clichés?” Samar playfully scolded.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Liz replied quietly, turning her head slightly on the headrest to smile at her friend.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

When they arrived at Samar’s building, Liz followed her into the elevator and up to the eighth floor. Upon entering her apartment, Samar gestured down the hallway. “Bathroom’s down there on the right, if you want to clean yourself up a bit. I made dinner when I got back from margaritas. I can heat something up for you if you’d like.”

“Ugh, yes please. I’m starving actually. Didn’t realize it until just now,” Liz replied, grateful.

Samar nodded, heading towards her kitchen. “If you want to take a shower, feel free. There are extra towels in the closet right across from the sink. And I can find you something comfortable to change into,” she added as she walked.

Liz shook her head in disbelief at her friend’s generosity.

“Samar, you’re a saint.”

Samar tossed an appreciative smile to Liz over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Liz could hear cupboards opening and closing, appliances beeping. A shower would help a little...maybe.

She found the bathroom easily, closing the door behind her, pulling a clean towel from the linen closet, and stripping off her work clothes along with the day’s pain. She tried to forget Red’s face, his words that had sliced into her body like an icicle through her gut, as she turned on the water and stepped into the hot spray. She could feel the water and its heat releasing some of the tension in her shoulders, in her head. She tried to empty her mind completely, focusing on the feel of the water on her skin.

After a few minutes, she started grabbing bottles of Samar’s bath products to wash herself. She had forgotten to find a washcloth, so she used her hands to scrub the remains of this godawful day from her body. She shampooed her hair so intensely that it took twice as long as usual to rinse out the suds.

She stepped out of the shower feeling slightly refreshed, wrapping the towel around her. A splash of color that hadn’t been there before caught her eye by the sink.

She smiled. Samar had left her a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt to change into, which she did quickly, glad she and Samar were about the same size, glad she didn’t have to mope about in her slacks and blouse all night, glad for the comforting smell of her friend, glad to be wrapped in soft, warm clothes.

Soft. Warm.

_Shit._ Those two simple words brought back her thoughts from earlier. Her realization about Red, his lips, his safety. Just...him.

She sucked in a deep breath to fight against the sadness, the panic, forming deep in her chest and hurried out of the bathroom to find Samar.

“Do you have Advil or something? My head is killing me,” Liz asked as she rounded the corner.

Samar was still in the kitchen, preparing two plates of delicious-smelling food. She turned to rummage in a drawer and handed Liz a bottle of medicine.

“Thanks,” Liz said as Samar quickly filled a glass with water, setting it on the counter in front of her.

“Of course.” Samar shrugged, like none of what she’d done tonight was a big deal at all, before moving on to the topic of food. “I made an Iranian stir-fry for dinner – you know, chicken, rice, veggies. I didn’t get a chance to eat any before you called-”

Liz almost choked on the pills sliding down her throat. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Samar shot her a look, as if to say _‘we’ve been over this,’_ and continued. “-but I reheated it and it’ll still be just as tasty. So. Eat up!” she offered, taking a seat at the counter in front of one of the plates and taking a hearty bite.

Liz sat next to her at the counter with her glass of water and took a bite. She made a noise of hungry appreciation, and Samar chuckled.

“This is amazing. Thanks. You know, for feeding me. And everything,” Liz smiled sadly.

“Well, I assume you would have stayed on that bench all night if I hadn’t come to get you,” she replied, smirking at Liz.

Liz huffed a short laugh, but frowned slightly at the mention of that bench. Samar was right. She would have stayed there all night. She’d been completely unable to think or move.

They finished eating in silence and when their plates were empty, Samar wordlessly stood up and took their dishes to the sink, rinsing them and placing them in her dishwasher before turning back to Liz, a serious look on her face.

“So.”

Liz looked up at her friend. “So.”

“Do you want to go to sleep? Watch TV? Talk?” Liz’s gaze faltered at that, and Samar quickly continued, “You don’t have to tell me anything, I’m just...here if you need me to be. That’s all.”

Liz glanced at her friend, throwing her a small grateful smile, before looking back down at the counter, staring at the condensation forming underneath her glass of water.

She swallowed heavily, running her finger across the wet glass.

“I told him I loved him. And, uh-” Liz whispered, trailing off, her breath hitching in her throat.

Samar stayed frozen in front of the dishwasher, the counter between them, waiting for Liz to continue, hating the look of pain spreading across her friend’s features.

“He said no.” She didn’t know how else to explain it.

Samar looked confused. “He said no?”

“He was never going to tell me about his feelings. He said telling me was a mistake.” She paused, before continuing with more strength in her voice. “I told him I loved him and he responded by telling me that I couldn’t _possibly_ love him. That we can never be together because I would never be safe with him. And I fought back, I told him that he _is_ my safety, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t fucking listen. He just told me I was wrong, that I’m just _desperate_ -”

Samar cut her off with a sigh. “Fuck.”

Liz was silent.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Samar repeated.

Liz swallowed the tears in her throat. “I never even thought of this as a possibility, Samar. Not once. I thought-” She stopped to take a breath. “I mean, he loves me, I love him. Why would he do this?”

Samar didn’t know what to say. She frowned, leaning back against the counter, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. She motioned for Liz to follow her into the living room.

Samar sat down at one end of the couch, lifting her legs up to rest her feet on the edge of the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. Liz sat down in the middle of the couch, next to Samar, and leaned back, angling herself slightly toward her friend.

Suddenly Liz’s phone rang from where she had left it on the counter.

Samar jumped up to retrieve it, and Liz turned, her body on full alert.

When Samar reached the phone, she mumbled under her breath, before holding it up to grab Liz’s attention (as if her attention weren’t already focused on the woman holding her phone). “Nick’s Pizza?”

“It’s him,” Liz confirmed.

“What do you want to do?” Samar asked.

Liz couldn’t speak. She just shook her head back and forth.

Samar’s lips turned down in a frown, before she made a quick decision.

She swiped across the touch screen to answer the call. Her voice was cold, emotionless, when she spoke. “Reddington.”

Red stayed silent for a moment, surprised to hear someone’s voice other than Liz’s and even more surprised that his call was answered in the first place.

“Whom am I speaking to?” he finally asked, wanting to make sure.

“This is Agent Navabi.” She glanced over at Liz who was watching with curiosity and maybe a little panic at not being in control of the situation.

“Agent Navabi, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Red managed to get out with his usual formal façade.

Samar chuckled humorlessly. “Oh trust me, it’s no pleasure of mine.” She was still looking at Liz, who could see the anger burning in Samar’s eyes. “Do me a favor and avoid contacting Elizabeth for a few days. She _especially_ does not wish to speak with you this evening. Goodbye, Reddington.”

Samar ended the call before Red had a chance to respond, placing the phone back on the counter. If Red were a decent human being, he would listen to her request and Liz wouldn’t need her phone staring at her as a reminder all night.

Liz smiled genuinely at her friend as Samar walked back to the couch and plopped down in her original spot.

“You didn’t have to do that. He’s used to being ignored.”

“Yeah well, maybe I scared some sense into him,” Samar replied.

Liz snorted and leaned into Samar’s shoulder. Half-joking, half-serious, she informed her friend, “You _can_ be pretty intimidating.”

Samar shrugged nonchalantly, like it was obvious. “I know.”

Liz laughed, followed by a beat of comfortable silence. “You really did scare the shit out of me when you first joined the task force,” she admitted.

Samar turned her head, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Really, why?” she asked, truly surprised.

Liz thought for a few seconds. “I guess because of your connection to Red. And because you’re this… experienced, badass foreign agent.”

Suddenly it dawned on her why exactly Samar had intimidated her, and she sat up, a blush creeping across her cheeks, before continuing, clearly embarrassed with her realization. “Oh god. I think I was _jealous_. You impressed him, and you’re right up his alley. Experienced, fearless, confident, sexy. That’s why I was intimidated by you.”

She paused again, looking at Samar and shaking her head. “Please slap some sense into me. Jesus, that’s embarrassing.”

Samar snorted. “Well, now you get to use my terrifying persona to your advantage. Seriously, do you want me to kick his ass? Because I will.”

Liz shot her an amused look.

“I’m serious,” Samar assured her.

Liz grinned. “I don’t doubt it. You could totally kick Red’s ass.”

“Hell yes I could.”

Liz sighed and leaned into Samar’s shoulder again, resting her head on the couch cushion behind her. “We’ll see. I’ll let you know if your services are needed.”

“Free of charge, of course.”

Liz chuckled under her breath and they drifted into silence.

After a few minutes of relaxed introspection for them both, Samar quietly spoke up. “I was glad when he gave me the chance to leave Europe. I was engaged to be married. My fiancé, he-” She broke off. “I was undercover with Mossad. My cover was blown. They killed him before I could get to him.”

Liz was frozen against her friend’s side.

Samar took a breath and continued. “I think you were right, what you said to me when I first joined the task force. About Reddington only being found if he wants to be found. I think he, with his various connections, had learned of my situation, and he knew that I was looking for him. He let me catch him so he could bring me here. He was trying to help me by getting me out of there. I don’t know _why_ he wanted to help me. But he knew that I couldn’t be there anymore. It was dangerous. And the memories…just too many memories.” She swallowed.

Liz sat up a little and laid her hand on Samar’s knee, trying to lend her some small amount of comfort. “Samar... I had no idea.”

Samar reached up to catch the few tears that had crossed the barrier of her eyelashes. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to release all the pent-up emotion building in her chest.

“What was his name?” Liz asked quietly, looking at her friend intently.

Samar met her gaze with a wobbly smile. “Farhad.”

As soon as she finished speaking his name, Samar’s face contorted into a grimace and her body began shaking with silent sobs. She leaned her head into one hand, trying to hide her face.

“Oh, Samar. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Liz whispered, pulling Samar into her arms and smoothing her curls away from her face.

After a few minutes, Samar’s sobs began to subside and she managed to speak. “My point is that Reddington _is_ a good man, Liz. He’s being a complete idiot, but it’s only because he wants to protect you.” She sniffed, swiping the tears from her cheeks again. “We lead dangerous lives. My job is the reason Farhad is dead.” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “Our loved ones are at risk. That’s why he’s running away. He loves you and that puts you in danger.”

Liz kept her arms wrapped around Samar and shushed her. “Let’s not talk about me right now, okay?” she suggested gently, resting her chin on Samar’s shoulder. “We’ve talked about me enough.”

Samar let out a small laugh through her tears, leaning into her friend’s comfort. “See, I told you we’d get to me eventually.” She could feel Liz smiling against her shoulder, feel the tiny exhale of laughter escaping Liz’s nose.

“True, you did. So how about we continue? Even the score a little?”

Samar breathed a brief laugh. Before she could agree, Liz continued.

“Please tell me you have ice cream so we can do this whole girl talk thing right.” Liz tilted her head with a smirk, trying to see Samar’s face from her vantage point of chin-on-shoulder.

Samar nodded. “I do actually. Some pints of Ben & Jerry’s. Take your pick.”

Liz disentangled herself from around Samar’s thin body and hopped up, heading straight for the fridge, causing Samar to chuckle while she reached for some tissues on the side table to blow her nose and wipe her face.

Liz returned in seconds, carrying a stack of three ice cream pints.

Samar snorted. “Couldn’t choose, I see?”

“Why choose?” Liz replied with a grin.

“Good point.”

Liz sat down, pulling one leg onto the couch and tucking it under the other. She leaned forward and set the pints of ice cream on the coffee table, beginning to remove the lids. Samar followed her lead, grabbing the pint closest to her and taking off the lid.

“So, do you like chocolate?” Liz joked.

Samar glanced at the ice cream, forgetting which kinds she had purchased recently, and laughed.

Chocolate Therapy, Half Baked, and Peanut Butter Fudge Core.

“Maybe just a little.” Samar smiled.

“I mean, who doesn’t?” Liz held out her hand, offering one of the spoons clutched there to Samar. “Do you have a preference?”

Samar thought about it for only a second before snatching up the pint of Chocolate Therapy.

“Sounds about right,” Liz snorted, choosing the Peanut Butter Fudge for herself.

Samar chuckled before leaning back into the couch, her entire body relaxing as the first bite of ice cream touched her tongue.

Liz leaned back next to her and they ate quietly for a couple minutes, the silence stretching between them like a serene hammock waiting to be filled with weight.

Liz waited patiently. She wanted to be here for Samar the way Samar had been there for her over the past few weeks. Her reverie was broken as Samar nudged her arm with her pint. Once she had Liz’s attention, she held it out, silently asking if she wanted to switch. Liz nodded in understanding, accepting the Chocolate Therapy from Samar’s outstretched hand and passing her the Peanut Butter Fudge.

After taking a bite of the new flavor, Samar finally spoke, looking down at the ice cream, fiddling nervously with her spoon. “You weren’t the only one who needed a friend.”

Liz remained quiet, waiting.

“When I arrived in Washington, I threw myself into the task force because it was all I had. My brother is dead, I haven’t spoken to my parents in years...I don’t really have any family left. Farhad is gone. I left behind the friends I had in Iran long ago. When I came here, nothing mattered to me anymore.” Samar paused to take a deep breath before continuing, a slight tremor in her voice. “I was consumed with hatred for the monsters that killed the people I love, and that hatred was poisoning me. There was no room inside me for anything else.”

She swallowed and looked up from her ice cream, meeting Liz’s concerned, pained gaze. When she spoke again, her voice was strong, sure. “Reddington saved me by bringing me here. I truly believe that. You and Aram and Ressler and Cooper. You saved me. You all reminded me that the world isn’t a completely evil, hopeless, desolate place. That there are other people out there to love. So, really, I’m the one who should be thanking you, Elizabeth.”

Liz let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, her brows furrowed in understanding.

Samar didn’t want to hold anything back anymore. This deluge of honesty felt so freeing, so refreshing. “In the airport, when I was shot and infected with the virus? I was trying to protect you by shutting you out, but you insisted on being there with me. On saving my life and comforting me through the pain, even though that meant infecting yourself. Reddington finding the cure was an _unlikely miracle_ , Liz. You faced inevitable death so I wouldn’t die alone.” Samar shook her head, still in disbelief at the selflessness of Liz’s actions that day. “I can’t express how much that meant to me. Up to that point you hadn’t been the most welcoming, but that moment showed me who you really are. A kind-hearted, selfless, courageous woman who will do _anything_ for the people in her life.”

Liz’s expression was filled with affection for her friend at the memory of that day, along with a hint of regret at the way she’d treated her before that. “I was horrible to you in the beginning, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Samar shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I understand. You didn’t trust me. You had valid reasons not to. Even though your assumptions about my relationship with Reddington were incorrect, I still understand why you were wary.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, searching each other’s faces. Samar’s mouth turned up in a soft smile and she leaned her head back on the cushion, her eyes remaining fixed on her friend.

Liz answered with a matching smile. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t quite as heavy. “Samar, it’s been my pleasure saving you. In general and on that day at the airport.”

Samar’s smile widened slightly and she swallowed the small lump of emotion forming in her throat.

“I’m pretty sure Aram would say the same, by the way,” Liz continued, amusement twinkling in her eyes, barely concealed under the surface of her voice.

“You think?” Samar asked, her face flashing with a mixture of skepticism, discomfort, and hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Liz snorted, surprised by Samar’s apparent ignorance. “He’s like a flustered little puppy around you. It’s adorable.”

Samar sighed softly. “I mean, yes. It _is_ obvious. I just... It was easy to pretend that I was imagining things, you know?”

Liz nodded.

“Now that it’s been acknowledged by someone else, it’s hard to keep pretending,” Samar continued.

Liz’s expression slowly registered fear and shame. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that Samar wouldn’t want to talk about Aram, which she now realized she should have after learning about Farhad.

“Oh. Shit, I’m sor-”

Samar saw the crestfallen, fearful look on Liz’s face and continued speaking, needing to reassure her friend. “No, no, don’t apologize. Don’t feel bad for bringing it up. It’s not like my denial was healthy.”

Liz took advantage of Samar’s pause. “I know, but I should’ve known not to talk about it. I mean, you’ve been through so much-”

Samar cut her off again. “Liz. I swear it’s okay. I’m not upset with you. I was just avoiding it because I don’t really know what to _do_ about it.”

Liz smiled sadly at her friend, hoping to convey her complete and utter understanding.

Samar set her ice cream on the table and sunk back into the couch limply with a sigh. “Aram is so sweet and so kind and so intelligent... He’s handsome in the most perfectly nerdy way, you know?”

Liz laughed, nodding in agreement.

Samar continued. “And you’re right, he’s like a smitten puppy with me. He’s such a pure, innocent man. It’s refreshing, really. And it’s so cute when he gets flustered.” She paused, smiling softly. “That day at the hospital? After we were infected? He was _there_. Just sitting there, waiting for me to wake up. I was so touched by that gesture, realizing that he so obviously cared about me. So I didn’t even think about it – I reached for him and I held his hand, and it felt....” She stopped, remembering how she felt in that moment, closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head, upset with herself for keeping all this locked away, happy to be sharing it with Liz now.

“It felt _right_.”

She opened her eyes and looked into her friend’s blue ones. Liz could see the fear, the guilt, clearly emanating from her face.

“I’m just... I don’t know. I feel guilty. It’s only been a year since I lost-” Her voice broke before she could utter the name of her murdered fiancé. She didn’t have the energy left to continue.

Liz simultaneously placed her ice cream back on the table and reached for Samar’s hand, needing to be a warm presence for her friend, to reassure her that liking someone new wasn’t a bad thing.

“Sweetie...he wouldn’t want you to be alone, you know? He wouldn’t want you to mourn him forever. Trust me, I understand, but also trust me when I say, I _know_ Farhad would want you to be happy. I don’t know what you believe, hell I don’t even know what I believe, but if he’s up there somewhere, he’s looking down here and wanting to know that you’re okay, that you’re _living_ , that you’re not spending the rest of your life missing him. He’ll always be in here” - at this, Liz held her fist to Samar’s chest, resting it over her heart - “and maybe you’ll always miss him. But no one deserves to be alone. No one.” She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “Yeah, if he’s up there, and he saw you with someone else, it might sting him a bit-”

Samar was teary-eyed but huffed a laugh. Liz grinned at the absurdity of her own words, and removed her hand from Samar’s chest to lightly squeeze her shoulder. “…but he’s up there. You’re down here. He knows he can’t be with you anymore. I _promise you_ he wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

Samar absorbed her friend’s words, allowing them to penetrate her layers of guilt and uncertainty. Her mind was moving a mile a minute, though her body remained completely still. She closed her eyes. “I just don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered.

“And that’s completely fine. But once you feel ready? There shouldn’t be any guilt then, okay? There’s no reason for guilt.”

Samar met Liz’s eyes once again and nodded, attempting to smile while wiping away the stray tear that had slid down her cheek, before staring up at the ceiling quietly.

Liz removed her hand from Samar’s shoulder and leaned back into the couch next to her friend, their legs comfortably touching, their joined hands resting in the slight valley between them.

They relaxed next to each other for a minute without speaking, glad to be in each other’s presence.

“God, our lives are fucked up, aren’t they?”

Liz’s sudden, _very true,_ statement made Samar burst out laughing, the joyous sound echoing off the ceiling, surrounding them. Her howls of laughter were of the contagious and uncontainable variety, and within a few seconds, Liz’s laughter had joined the euphony of sound.

After several minutes of uncontrollable laughter, they were both gasping for breath. When they were finally able to contain themselves, Samar sighed and gently leaned her head on Liz’s shoulder.

Liz spoke up. “I know this is going to sound lame, and we should probably just forget I even said it, but _god_ , it’s good to have a friend. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to _not_ have to keep everything trapped inside.... To not feel cut off from my own life, not to mention from the entire world. Talking is very, very good.” She chuckled, and she could feel the subtle movement of Samar’s grin against her shoulder.

“Me too. Absolutely, me too,” Samar replied quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

On Monday, Liz awoke with a groan. She really didn’t want to go to work and face Red. She hadn’t gone to her scheduled meeting with him on Saturday. Surprisingly, she hadn’t even heard from him all weekend.

Apparently he was heeding Samar’s not-so-friendly suggestion to leave her alone.

Forcing herself to get up, she quickly went through her morning routine, and breathed a sigh of relief when she arrived at the Post Office to find no Red waiting for her.

That relief quickly turned into frustration when he walked out of the elevator five minutes later, marching straight into the war room, his booming voice asking everyone to gather around.

Liz stood next to Samar, avoiding Red’s gaze, trying to focus on what he was saying about their new case. The next name on the Blacklist.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The case kept them extremely busy. By Wednesday, Liz, Samar, Ressler, and Red were parked near a construction site, waiting for Aram’s confirmation that their blacklister had set up shop inside.

They snuck onto the grounds, guns at the ready, Liz and Ressler going one way, Red and Samar the other.

They had been there for only a minute, she and Ressler having cleared the first floor of the unfinished building, when gunshots rang out above them.

“Shit,” Ressler whispered, as Liz immediately ran toward the sound.

As Liz ascended the stairs, she almost collapsed at the sight that greeted her.

“No. No no no,” she mumbled.

Her legs were numb as she forced herself toward Samar’s slumped form on the concrete floor.

Samar was unconscious. Blood was gushing out of her abdomen. She was losing so much blood.

_So much blood._

Liz was having trouble breathing.

“No no no no!” She was practically screaming now, tears running down her cheeks. She tried to put pressure on the spot where the bullet had entered while checking for a pulse. She could barely feel it. Samar was hanging on by a thread.

She looked down and saw signs of another bullet wound on Samar’s thigh.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, whipping her head around. “Ressler! We need help!”

He had just reached the top of the stairs, and he ran to his colleagues as soon as he saw what had happened.

“Her pulse is so faint. We have to get her to a hospital. Oh my god.” Liz was choking back sobs. Ressler immediately called for medical backup, as more gunshots rang out a floor above them. Liz barely registered the sound.

“Samar, I don’t know if you can hear me, but please, _please_ stay with me, okay? You cannot die on me. Not now. Please. Hold on, Samar. Just hold on. We’re getting help, okay?” Liz pleaded. She pulled off her jacket and wrapped it around her friend as tightly as she could to try to staunch the flow of blood. Ressler did the same for Samar’s leg wound.

Suddenly, Red was there, his voice ringing out, somehow piercing through Liz’s fuzzy brain. “Meiyun shot her. I followed him, he’s dead.” He sounded hollow, emotionless.

Liz couldn’t stop the tears as she looked up at Red.

“Lizzie, I don’t know if she’s-”

She cut him off, her voice filled with anger and emotion. “Don’t say it. We have to save her, Red. We have to.” She was forcing the words out, the realization of what would happen if they didn’t cutting her deep.

Ressler broke into the conversation. “Medics are on their way, minutes out. I’ll go down and wait. Keep pressure on those, Keen.”

Liz nodded at Ressler before turning her full attention back to Samar. “Hold on, Samar. Hold on. I’m here.”

Her breath hitched and her stomach clenched with fear. “Hurry the hell up!” she screamed uselessly, her voice echoing throughout the unfinished structure.

Red tried to place his hand on her shoulder for comfort, but she leaned forward away from his touch, putting as much pressure as she could on Samar’s abdomen. Squatting down, he tightened the jacket around Samar’s leg wound, keeping steady pressure on it, allowing Liz to focus her attention on the more critical injury.

The minutes simultaneously dragged endlessly and flew by as Liz obsessively checked how tightly the jacket was tied around Samar’s abdomen, over and over, murmuring constant reassurances to her friend that everything would be okay, that everything _had_ to be okay.

Once the medics arrived, it was a blur. Samar was carefully moved onto a stretcher and rushed down to ground level, Liz frantically following as closely as she could without getting in the way. “Please help her. Please,” Liz’s voice broke. She didn’t know if the medics had heard her, but when she forced herself into the back of the ambulance with Samar, no one said a word.

They sped to the nearest hospital, Liz clutching at Samar’s motionless hand, the medics’ words a flurry of nonsense. Phrases that Liz should understand, but that her mind couldn’t follow.

“Samar, I’m here. I’m right here,” she whispered over and over.

When they arrived at the emergency room, Liz felt like she was moving in slow motion, drowning in quicksand. Samar was rushed into the belly of the hospital before Liz could even register where the hell she was.

She looked around, lost, aimless. What was she supposed to do now?

One of the medics from the ambulance was walking toward her from where they had just taken Samar. Liz forced herself to focus as he began speaking.

“Miss? They’re doing everything they can. Someone will come find you when they know anything.”

Liz nodded absently. “Thanks,” she mumbled as he walked away from her.

She stood, staring straight ahead of her, unseeing. She didn’t notice the other people in the waiting room looking at her. She didn’t notice Ressler’s voice approaching behind her, saying her name. She didn’t notice Red’s hand on her arm, Red standing right in front of her, until he quietly uttered “Lizzie.”

Suddenly aware of who was standing in front of her, touching her, her eyes widened. She was having trouble breathing, but not because of Red.

Because her only friend was dying somewhere beyond those damn doors.

“Lizzie.”

His hands were on her arms, squeezing.

She didn’t care that he had hurt her, rejected her. She needed him.

She stepped forward, burying her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, frantically clutching his shirt into her fists, allowing herself to collapse fully into him, sobbing.

Red hadn’t been expecting this reaction, so it took him a few seconds to fully register what was happening before he quickly folded her into his arms, supporting her, letting her lean all of her weight into his chest.

He didn’t try to say anything. He was just _there_.

Her tears were soaking through his shirt, but he just held her. He reached one hand up to stroke her hair, attempting to calm her.

After what seemed like hours to Liz, her sobs began to subside, but she stayed glued to Red’s chest, holding on for dear life.

He gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger in her hair.

She couldn’t bring herself to care – about his lips in her hair, about her letting him hold her like this, about Ressler watching from just a few feet away.

“Samar,” she whimpered helplessly.

Red tightened his embrace, cupping her head and holding her even closer to his chest.

He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. But he didn’t want to lie to her – he _couldn’t_ lie to her. He didn’t know for sure that Samar would make it through the night. She had lost a lot of blood.

After a moment, Liz lifted her tear-stained face slightly, looking at Ressler. “Can you call Aram? He should know what happened.”

Ressler’s face was pained looking at his partner, but he nodded and walked away to make the call.

Liz stayed in Red’s embrace, not wanting to go back to the reality of the situation – that Samar might not be okay, that Red had told her they could never be together. She didn’t want to look at his face.

“Lizzie.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, vibrating against her ear. “You should get yourself cleaned up. There’s a restroom around the corner.”

She nodded against him, then pulled away without meeting his eyes, squeezing his hand in a silent thank you before walking away.

In the restroom, Liz tried to scrub Samar’s blood from her hands, her arms. It was everywhere. She grunted out of frustration, sheer agony, anger. Gripping the edges of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white, she straightened her elbows, allowing her head to fall into her chest as hot tears burned down her cheeks again.

She forced herself to keep scrubbing away at the blood, but it was staining her skin. Samar was leaving a tattoo on her body, as if she were saying ‘ _don’t forget me_.’

Liz’s life had become a nightmare two years ago. And every time something started to go right, it all fell apart before it could even come together.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noticing dried blood in her hair. She leaned over the sink, trying to rinse it out, scrubbing at it with the hospital’s cheap hand soap. She splashed her face with the cold water. Her shirt was wet by the time she finished, but she didn’t care – she barely noticed.

She pulled her wet hair back in a ponytail, grabbed a stack of paper towels, and began drying off.

Liz had been in the bathroom for at least half an hour by the time she deemed herself cleaned up enough to face the waiting room again. To face the possibility of Samar being gone. To face _him_ again.

She cleaned up her mess of slightly pink-stained paper towels and blew her nose. Some of Samar’s dried blood was still lodged in the crevices of her fingernail beds, but she had done the best she could.

She walked out of the bathroom, the blood stains still faintly tattooed on her hands and arms, unable to be washed clean.

When she entered the waiting room, she took a deep breath. Red was sitting with his hands clasped, legs crossed, looking down, waiting patiently for her to return. Ressler was sitting a few seats away, legs apart, leaning his elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. As soon as she started walking towards them, she heard Aram’s voice behind her.

“Liz!” he shouted, running toward her, toward them.

She turned and he ran straight to her, throwing his arms around her.

“Aram,” she whispered. They held on to each other like they were drowning.

After a few moments, he managed to get out in a broken voice, “What happened?”

Liz let out a shaky sigh, unsure if she would be able to relay the story without breaking down again.

“It’s bad, Aram. It’s bad. I don’t know. We- we were looking for Meiyun and the next thing I knew she was on the ground, bleeding- god, there was so much blood. _So_ much blood.”

She had to stop. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image that she knew would stay with her until the end of time.

Aram kept his arms around her, as much to support himself as to support Liz. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he took a deep breath.

Liz led him over to the row of chairs where Red and Ressler were sitting and watching them from twenty feet away.

Liz took the seat next to Red’s, surprising him. Aram sat next to her, their hands clasped between them, holding on tightly to each other for some small amount of comfort, knowing they both loved the woman who may or may not make it through this.

Red made no move to touch Liz, and she was mostly glad.

They all sat, still as statues, for at least two hours, before a doctor entered the waiting room, walking toward them.

They all looked up at him in unison, Liz involuntarily tightening her grip on Aram’s hand. He brought his other hand over to cover them protectively.

The doctor stood in front of them and Liz felt like time was standing still. Her breath was trapped in her lungs. She couldn’t move.

“Agent Navabi is _extremely_ lucky,” the doctor began.

Liz exhaled shakily, collapsing her forehead onto Aram’s shoulder.

“We almost lost her, but she’s a fighter. She lost a great deal of blood, but thankfully the bullets didn’t hit any major organs or arteries. She’s still unconscious, and we’ll have to keep a close eye on her, but we think there’s a good chance she’s going to pull through this,” the doctor continued.

Liz cleared the lump of emotion from her throat, standing up to shake the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. She’s only been out of surgery for about fifteen minutes, but if her condition remains stable for the next few hours, we can allow you to see her. Try to get some rest until then.” The doctor placed a comforting hand on Liz’s shoulder for a second before turning to walk away.

Aram pulled Liz into his arms again and she breathed a deep sigh of relief into his chest.

Red cleared his throat. “Lizzie, I can have Dembe come pick us up. We all need to get out of these bloody clothes. And we should probably eat something.

Liz’s mouth immediately turned down at the corners, but she nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew he was right. If – no, _when_ – Samar regained consciousness and saw her own blood all over Liz’s clothes, that wouldn’t be ideal.

Red stepped back to call Dembe, and Aram spoke up quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Liz turned to him and searched his face. She saw determination, pleading, worry. She gave him a sad smile, placing her hand on his upper arm. At least he wasn’t covered in Samar’s blood.

“I’ll keep you updated if anything, you know- changes,” Aram continued, glancing between Liz’s gaze and the floor.

She nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told him, lightly squeezing his arm, before letting go and walking toward the exit, followed closely behind by Red and Ressler.

Outside, Ressler gently clasped Liz’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you, Keen?”

She looked over her shoulder at Red.

“Dembe will be another five minutes. You can go with Donald if you’d like to get home that much sooner,” Red offered.

Liz turned back to Ressler. “Thanks, Ress, but I can go with Reddington. Get back to the Post Office. Update Cooper. I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

He nodded and walked away to find the SUV that he had driven there hours earlier.

Liz didn’t necessarily _want_ to spend the next thirty-or-so minutes alone with Red, but she knew that Ressler needed to hold down the task force with Cooper since everyone else was otherwise engaged at the moment.

Liz stood with her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the slight chill. She had no idea what had happened to her jacket after tying it around Samar’s gunshot wound. Not that it mattered. It would be ruined from the blood anyway.

Red stood at her side patiently. Neither of them spoke.

Just as Red promised, Dembe pulled up at the curb five minutes later. Red opened the door and Liz gratefully slid inside the car. Within seconds, Red had seated himself on the other side and Dembe was driving in the direction of her motel.

The car remained silent for a few minutes before Red suddenly spoke, in a soft, reassuring tone. “I don’t know her well, but based on my knowledge of Agent Navabi prior to joining the task force and my interactions with her since, she’s incredibly strong, Lizzie. A fighter, like the doctor said. I have faith that she’ll survive this.”

Liz was grateful for his comforting words. But she didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything at all.

At her silence, he continued. “I didn’t know you were so close.”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, it’s pretty recent. We started going out for drinks after work a few weeks ago.”

The timing wasn’t lost on him and she knew it. If he had to take a guess, he would say it was fairly likely that he was a frequent conversational subject between the two women.

He remained silent for a beat, letting this quiet knowledge marinate between them for a moment before speaking.

“I never intended to hurt you, Lizzie. Please believe that.”

Liz released a shaky breath. “I know,” she quietly admitted.

She didn’t have anything else to say. It may not have been his intention, but he _had_ hurt her – he had practically forced her to confront her own feelings for him and then he’d retracted his admission, like his love for her meant nothing.

Red sat patiently, waiting. He would wait until she was ready to talk.

Not another word was spoken until they arrived at the motel.

Without meeting his gaze, she said, “Thank you, Red,” got out of the car, and walked away without looking back.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Less than two hours later, Liz was back at the hospital, finding Aram right where she’d left him, resting his head face-down in his palms.

“Hey,” she said softly to get his attention, sitting down beside him.

He glanced up quickly, looking relieved to see her. She knew being alone with your thoughts in a hospital wasn’t fun.

“Hey. She’s still the same,” he offered, knowing Liz was about to ask.

She sighed. “Well, now you have company.”

He gave her a small, sympathetic smile in response and they sat in companionable, worried silence for a while before Aram spoke.

“I can’t lose her, Liz. Not before I tell her... I...” He trailed off, his voice rough and strained with emotion.

“She knows,” Liz told him gently.

Aram snapped his head to look at her, a look of surprise, confusion, and hesitation twisting his features.

His expression was almost enough to make Liz laugh, but she held it back. Instead, she gave him a genuine smile and a reassuring pat on his clasped hands.

“She’s been through a lot, before she joined the task force. I’m not sure she’ll be ready to jump into anything anytime soon. But trust me, Aram, she knows. And she thinks you’re cute,” she added with a smirk.

Aram looked like he was in a slight state of shock at this news, but just then the doctor entered the waiting room and walked toward them. Liz’s eyes filled with fear and she tightened her hold on Aram’s clasped hands. Seeing her face, Aram shot his gaze in the same direction, his expression quickly matching Liz’s.

“Agent Navabi is still unconscious, but there have been subtle improvements over the past few hours. You can see her now if you’d like, to help ease your worry,” the doctor informed them.

They both stood immediately and the doctor led them through sterile, white hallways until they reached Samar’s room.

Liz inhaled sharply when she saw Samar’s pale, unconscious form lying on the bed, connected to _way_ too many machines and tubes.

Aram reached for her hand again, offering a small measure of mutual comfort.

“She can most likely hear you if you want to talk to her, reassure her. Sometimes it helps,” the doctor suggested.

“You can go in first,” Aram offered.

Liz shot him a look of concern. “You sure?”

He nodded, so Liz squeezed his hand and walked into Samar’s room, closing the door behind her.

It was so quiet, with only the constant beeping of the machines to break the silence.

She paused, taking in the image of her motionless friend.

Slowly, Liz made her way to the chair at the bedside and sat down, immediately reaching for Samar’s hand.

Liz was trying to be strong, but it was killing her to see Samar like this.

Samar was usually so fierce, full of life. And now she seemed practically _lifeless_. Just a few hours ago, Liz had had Samar’s blood all over her, had to watch it draining from her body, unable to do anything.

It was breaking Liz’s heart.

She let out a shaky breath, holding onto Samar’s hand, her arm resting on the bed.

“Samar,” she whispered.

It felt good to say her name. It helped convince Liz that Samar was there in front of her. That Samar was still alive.

So she said it again.

“Samar.”

She gently reached up to smooth some flyaway hairs away from Samar’s forehead.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can.” She paused. “Because I want you to know that I’m here with you right now. I just... I really need you to come back to me. We all need you. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, Samar.”

She blinked back tears and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Our friendship means so much to me. _You_ mean so much to me. Back when I worked in New York, everyone called me ‘sir.’ They all thought I was a complete bitch. I can count the number of close female friends I’ve had in my lifetime on one hand, and I just-” she broke off. “You’ve been trying to befriend me since the day you joined the task force, and I’m always so stupidly untrusting... I’m sorry for being so rude to you those first few weeks.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Thank you for not letting me push you away. I love you.”

Liz could feel a few tears escaping, racing down her cheeks.

She sniffed and wiped her face with her free hand, not taking her eyes off of her friend.

After a few moments, she huffed a quiet laugh through her tears and squeezed Samar’s hand. “Aram is here to see you too. He came as soon as we called him, and he hasn’t left since. It’s been hours. I should let him talk to you for awhile, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

Liz stood up and smiled sweetly, sadly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Samar’s forehead.

“Please wake up,” she whispered before leaving the room.


	8. Chapter 8

When Samar regained consciousness the next day she asked for Reddington, according to the nurse standing before them.

Liz and Aram exchanged confused glances, but she quickly pulled out her phone, swallowed her pride, and called Red.

“Lizzie?” he asked, his tone a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Red. Samar’s awake and she asked for you. I don’t know why, but can you come to the hospital?” Liz asked, serious, anxious.

“I’ll be right there,” Red responded without hesitation and Liz immediately heard the line go dead.

Liz turned back to the nurse. “Can I see her?”

The nurse nodded. “You _can_ , but she requested to speak to Mr. Reddington before seeing anyone else.”

Liz’s brows furrowed in confusion. What was Samar doing?

She turned back to Aram. He shrugged, indicating that he was just as baffled.

They stood together, silent. Aram’s arms were crossed, his fingers anxiously twitching against his ribs, and he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Liz rubbed her scar absentmindedly, staring at the clean, white linoleum under her feet.

Liz felt like they were waiting endlessly, like time had completely stopped, but Red arrived in less than ten minutes, Dembe following close behind him.

He strode toward them with purpose, and the nurse presumed this was the man they were waiting for. Red nodded briefly at Liz and Aram before wordlessly following the nurse into the room.

Once inside, he nodded at the nurse, thanking her. She responded with a smile, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Red turned his gaze toward the hospital bed. Samar was staring right back at him, her face cold, practically expressionless.

She remained silent, leaving Red slightly uncomfortable, though he would never show it. He cleared his throat. “Agent Navabi, I’m happy to see you awake and recovering,” he spoke in a collected, measured voice, his Concierge of Crime mask securely in place. Or so he thought.

She remained quiet, not removing her gaze from his features.

“You asked for me?” he asked, wondering if she’d forgotten.

Still nothing. He was becoming more and more unsure by the second. So he pulled out his usual weapon: a tale from his life of crime.

“I was in Iran a few years ago. Met a lovely woman by the name of Nasrin. She made me the most delicious-”

Samar finally spoke, abruptly halting his words, her voice cutting, angry.

“Cut the crap, Reddington. I almost died yesterday.”

He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “I am aware of that, Agent Navabi. Why did you ask to speak with me?”

“I’m going to say this as clearly as I can. And I’m going to say it once. Got it?”

He continued staring into her eyes with confusion, trying to read her mind, before nodding almost imperceptibly.

“Life is short. Our lives may be shorter than most. We lead dangerous lives. Liz has a dangerous job _because_ she works with you. She does this job, puts herself in danger on a regular basis, to help _you_. But even without this job... we both know she is in danger with or without you, Reddington. The damage is done. You’re already in her life. Don’t make things worse by pretending that whatever it is between you doesn’t exist. It _exists_. She loves you and _god knows_ you love her, so stop being a fucking idiot. Love each other together rather than apart. You’re both in danger every day of your damn lives, so you might as well be happy while you can.” Her voice was measured, so controlled. “Do you understand?” she asked slowly, her eyes boring into his.

He clenched and worked his jaw, lips slightly parted, trying to think of the right words to say. Quickly realizing there were no right words, he closed his mouth, his lips turning down at the corners.

They continued to face off silently before Samar asked again, firmly, “Do you understand me, Reddington?”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, tried to keep his mask in place.

He was failing, so he just opened his eyes and nodded, knowing his pain was clearly visible, written across his features.

Keeping her gaze on his distraught face, Samar replied, “Good.” She settled back onto her pillows, suddenly relaxed, like she had been tense with the weight of the words she had just handed over to him, that were now his burden to carry.

Red guessed that meant he was free to leave, so he turned on his heel and strode out of her room, continuing past Liz, Aram, and Dembe, all the way out of the hospital, ignoring Liz’s concerned, confused calls after him. Dembe spared the pair a reassuring smile before following behind him wordlessly.

When they got in the car, Red was silent, unmoving, processing. Dembe knew to leave him be. He didn’t have to ask where Red would like to be taken.

Arriving at his apartment in Bethesda, Red proceeded straight inside, poured himself a rather sizable glass of scotch, and sat in his favorite armchair, his cat immediately leaping into his lap. He allowed her to snuggle up to him, barely registering that she was there. As his free hand stroked her head, the repetitive action and the furry presence began to straighten out his muddled thoughts.

Damn that Navabi.

He knew she was right.

She was absolutely right.

He had been so desperate to keep his Lizzie safe from him, from his world, that logic had escaped him.

He had been so focused on himself, on his negative thoughts of himself, that he found it impossible to believe that she could feel the same way about him as he did about her.

He had been so focused on the thought that he didn’t deserve happiness, that she deserved _so much better_ , a safe, normal life, that he hadn’t even considered himself as an option for her happiness.

He knew she deserved happiness, more than anyone he had ever known. _He_ didn’t deserve happiness, but _she_ sure as hell did.

He loved her more than he thought was possible after all the darkness he’d been drowning in for over twenty years. And she deserved to be loved as deeply as he loved her.

So why couldn’t he be the one to give her that love? To make her feel safe and loved and happy every day for the rest of her life?

If she loved him and wanted him, how could he possibly deny her that? All he wanted was for his Lizzie to be happy – he couldn’t deny her happiness, even if he so desperately wanted to deny it of himself.

Even if her happiness meant that he, an undeserving monster of a man, would be happy too.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Liz watched Red walk away, confused, but her thoughts immediately turned back to Samar and she hurried into the room.

She froze in the doorway, gripping the doorframe as if she needed physical support. She couldn’t hold in the tears of relief upon seeing her friend awake. Alive.

Samar looked exhausted, but the smile stretching slowly across her face was the most genuine, most joyful, most grateful-to-be-alive smile Liz had ever seen.

“Liz.”

She could hear the smile in Samar’s voice, see it in her shining eyes.

The tears spilled over from where they had collected on Liz’s eyelashes and she rushed forward to Samar’s bed, grabbing her hand desperately, holding on as if their linked fingers were the only defense against the tears threatening to drown her, threatening to stop her from making sure Samar was real.

“Samar,” she whispered, her friend’s name coming out in a ragged breath.

She clutched Samar’s hand tightly, brushing the fingers of her free hand through Samar’s curls lightly.

“How are you feeling?” she managed to ask.

“I’ve been better,” Samar smirked.

Liz grinned, wiping the worst of the tears from her cheeks before pulling the chair closer to the bed and sitting down, never once letting go of Samar’s hand. She had the ridiculous, illogical fear that if she stopped touching Samar, her friend would vanish.

“God, Samar, I was so scared,” she breathed. “I can’t imagine losing you, not after we’ve just-” She swallowed, unable to continue.

Samar squeezed her hand and gave her a sad smile. “I know. But no need to worry, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Liz assured her.

Samar cleared her throat, and when she spoke her voice was rough with emotion. “I could hear you, by the way. When I was unconscious. I love you too, Liz.”

Fresh tears rolled down Liz’s cheeks as she gripped Samar’s hand even harder, beaming.

She didn’t say anything. No words were needed.

Just friendship.

Just love.

After a few moments of companionable silence, Liz remembered Samar’s mysterious conversation with Red. If she weren’t planning to voluntarily offer up why she had asked to speak to him before anyone else, Liz would have to ask.

“Why did you need to speak to Red? He seemed a little...” Liz paused, tilting her head, trying to come up with the right word. “... _off_. When he left.”

Samar watched as Liz searched her face, making sure her expression was unreadable. She had known that Liz would ask. That’s just who Liz was.

“Samar,” Liz pressed.

Samar sighed before giving the most vague answer possible. “I told him some things he needed to hear.”

Before Liz could demand more details, Samar felt a sharp pain slicing through her abdomen, causing her to wince and hiss sharply.

Liz bolted up from the chair. “What is it? What do you need?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just a little pain. To be expected. I was shot, after all.”

Liz’s expression was laced with worry.

“I’ll let the nurse know and I’m sure she’ll give me more pain meds,” Samar assured her, pressing the call button.

Liz’s brow remained furrowed, but she nodded.

“Also, my hand’s going a little numb,” Samar smirked, looking down at their joined hands.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even realize-”

Liz tried to pull her hand away, but before she could withdraw out of her friend’s grasp, Samar caught the ends of her fingers, drawing Liz’s hand back in, twining their fingers together.

Samar cut her off mid-apology. “You don’t have to stop. Just maybe let me have my circulation back? You’re holding on so tight, it’s like you’re watching a horror movie or something.” Her eyes glinted with mischief as she grinned up at Liz’s anxious face.

Liz huffed a quiet, fleeting laugh before speaking, her voice bleak, a wisp of shadow. “Well, the last couple days have been pretty horror movie-esque.”

Samar softly brushed her thumb over the back of Liz’s hand and gave her a warm smile. “I know. So don’t let go.”

 

* * * * * * * *

 

That night Liz dreamt of death.

It was a doubly hellish nightmare, featuring both of the people she held closest to her heart. She woke up at 4am, drenched in sweat, trembling, tears streaking her cheeks.

She allowed herself to cry, for everything she’d lost, for everything she thought she’d gained, for everything she’d _almost_ lost. Her dream was a heavy reminder of the reality that very nearly could have been if Samar hadn’t made it through surgery, if Red hadn’t survived that shot from the sniper months ago.

She let herself cry for all the other versions of herself.

The innocent Liz from two years ago, happily married, getting ready to adopt a baby and start a promising new job.

The fractured Liz, who had been chipped away piece by piece as everything she thought she knew about herself and her life was proven untrue.

The Liz from just a week ago who thought requited feelings meant something.

The broken, empty shell of Liz that could have been left behind if Red or Samar had been taken from her.

She cried for the pain Samar must be feeling, the pain from losing Farhad, the pain from the bullets. She cried for what could have been if Red hadn’t claimed her feelings were invalid, if he hadn’t claimed she was only _desperate_. She cried for the blissful ignorance she would still be in if Red hadn’t opened his damn drunken mouth in the first place.

She cried until she couldn’t remember why she was crying, her nightmare, her _life_ , just distant memories. She cried until her mind was a complete blank, her only focus the ragged tearing in her chest, the heavy burning in her eyes, the way her body was shaking with the exertion of trying to get the right amount of air into her gasping lungs.

Her mind was empty to everything except the tears.

And then suddenly it wasn’t.

She knew what she had to do.

She hurried out of bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping on shoes before rushing out the door of her motel room, the first wisps of dawn threading into the darkness of the night. She drove as quickly as she could through the near-empty streets.

She was returning voluntarily to the apartment she’d hoped she’d never have to see again.


	9. Chapter 9

“Lizzie?”

Her name a question. Just like the last time she came here, the last time he answered the door to find her standing on the other side.

She might as well be reliving last Friday’s confrontation.

Well, she might be within a couple minutes. Alone in her motel room, she had felt compelled to see him. She had known with certainty that she had to convince him, _somehow_ , that her feelings were real. But what if she was just setting herself up for more pain? She didn’t have any energy left for pain. Especially not right now.

“Red.” She paused, fixing her eyes on his. Maybe what she said next would chip away at his walls a little: “ _Raymond_.”

At her utterance of his first name, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching him closely for a reaction.

He remained quiet, waiting for her to speak. She had clearly come for a reason, and he felt he very likely knew what that reason was.

Her voice was firm when she began. “I know everything you said last week was said from a place of love. You’re trying to protect me. I get it. But that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

She stopped to see if he would respond. He only continued staring at her, his expression unreadable.

So she continued. “There is _no one_ who makes me feel more protected than you. And I’m not desperate. Yes, you opening your stupid drunken mouth in the first place is what made me _realize_ that I love you, but that does _not_ make my feelings invalid. And you never intending to tell me does _not_ make your feelings nonexistent.” She paused to let that sink in, his expression remaining as impassive as ever. “I just… after almost losing Samar…” She trailed off, her voice breaking. “Life is so short, Raymond. It’s too damn short to waste time not being as _happy as possible_.”

As soon as she said his name for the second time, she could see his mask slipping away, his eyes a chaotic mess of emotion. By the time she finished speaking, he looked like a lost, broken man, not one shred left of his stony façade.

He had been waiting to come to her with his apology – to take back his absurdly misguided insistence that they couldn’t be together – until she had had time to process the near-loss of her friend. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her. But here she was, standing in front of him. Fighting for him, fighting for his love. And she didn’t _have_ to fight anymore – she just didn’t know that yet.

Before she knew what was happening, his hands were on her, one cupping her cheek gently and one tangled in her hair, and his lips were on hers, firm, insistent.

His kiss was raw, clumsy in its urgency. It was as if he were saying with his kiss what he had been too terrified to say in words.

_I’m sorry._

_I never meant to hurt you._

_You are everything to me._

_Lizzie, Lizzie, I love you, Lizzie._

She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck, one arm spread across his broad shoulders and the other hand softly grazing the short hairs on the back of his head.

She pulled away just enough to take a breath, rising up on her tiptoes a bit to lean her forehead against his.

“Red,” she whispered amongst their mingled quick breaths.

His voice was tight with emotion when he spoke, murmuring against her lips. “I love you so damn much, Lizzie. My heart’s worth nothing, but it’s yours. It’s _yours_.”

Liz spoke up immediately to disprove his claim, shaking her head. “It’s worth _everything_ , Red. I promise.”

He left a lingering kiss on her forehead before continuing. “What you said about being happy… you’re right. That’s what your fiery friend told me at the hospital.” Liz chuckled at his accurate description of Samar, and at the knowledge that _of course_ that’s why Samar had asked to speak with Red – not for her own benefit, but for Liz’s. Selfless as always.

“She very straightforwardly put things into perspective for me. She informed me in no uncertain terms that I was being a fool. That danger is inevitable for people like us. That we all need to love while we can. To be happy while we can. And Lizzie, I don’t deserve _any_ of that happiness, but you…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.” His voice broke, clearly strained with emotion. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you, sweetheart.”

Liz refused to accept his heartbreaking belief that he was some kind of monster, unworthy of love. She wished she could take back all the times she’d reinforced that belief in him. All the awful things she’d said to him, all her harsh words, all the times she’d lashed out. She hadn’t known him then, not really. She hadn’t _seen_ him.

Liz’s words were certain, unyielding, when she replied. “You deserve it too, Red. All you’ve ever done is protect me. You’re the most honorable man, the most _incredible_ man, I’ve ever known. You _do_ deserve happiness. After all you’ve been through? After all you’ve been _forced to do_? I know that this image of you, this persona that you show the world – that’s not who you really are. I know the real you – the man, the human being. I _see_ you, Raymond. And I love the man I see.”

She had barely finished speaking when he caught her lips in another searing kiss, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

Within seconds, they were caught up in this new certainty of each other, all thought abandoned, their only focus the sensation of clashing lips and tongues. The devotion between them was tangible, surrounding them in a warm glow.

Locked in this seemingly infinite moment, only one word popped into Liz’s head:

_Happy_.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Liz woke up next to the man she loved, with the knowledge that her closest friend was safely recovering in the hospital. Two days ago, she had almost lost everything, but now she felt like the luckiest woman alive.

Afternoon sun was shining into the bedroom, the blinds throwing lines of gold across the lumps of their tangled legs under the blankets. In a panic, she remembered that it was Friday, but she quickly relaxed upon the realization that she could call Cooper and take the day off. The task force had had a rough week – they were bound to be scattered. Disjointed. Plus, if Raymond Reddington would rather her be here in his bed than out chasing one of the names on his list, she didn’t _really_ need to be at the Post Office.

Red stirred beside her and she burrowed into his chest, placing a gentle kiss just above his heart. He hooked his chin on top of her head, and she could feel his voice rumbling in his throat when he spoke. “Good afternoon, sweetheart.”

She chuckled, her soft exhale brushing across the fine golden hairs on his chest. “ _Friday_ afternoon, no less. I have to go call Cooper.” She left another quick kiss on his chest and rolled away from him to go find her cell phone.

Red grabbed her hand before she could stand up. “There’s nothing for you to do there today. I need you _here_.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going to work. I’ll be right back.” She squeezed his hand and this time he let her leave the warmth of the bed. He relaxed back into the pillows, basking in the sunlight.

When Liz returned after making her phone call, she hopped onto the bed next to him and grabbed his hand in both of hers, grinning. “Can we go visit Samar? I need to thank her for smacking some sense into you.”

Red chuckled. “Of course, sweetheart.” He paused, a devilish smile spreading across his face, one eyebrow raised. “I’d like to thank her as well.”

Liz rolled her eyes at the implication, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, Red. Whatever you say.”

He pulled her down for a tender kiss. “I’m kidding, of course. I do actually owe her a _real_ thank you. For _pointing out_ my idiocy, yes, but also for being there for you during my weeks of idiocy,” he rumbled against her lips.

Liz tossed her arm across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. “She’s an incredible friend,” she sighed against him. They remained still, neither of them ready to end this part of the day yet. After a few seconds, Liz tightened her embrace. “I can’t believe I almost lost her, Red,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “I know, sweetheart, I know. But she’s all right. She’ll be fine,” he soothingly reassured her.

She nodded against him, knowing he was right. It was just hard to shake the memory of Samar’s blood everywhere. It was hard to shake the nightmares, like the one she’d had the previous night and was sure to have more of in the weeks and months to come.

“Let’s go see her now,” Liz suggested, smiling up at Red.

Red’s heart swelled. There was nothing more beautiful than his Lizzie’s smile. “Yes, let’s,” he replied, kissing her once more before they finally got out of bed.

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Liz knocked on the door to the hospital room, peeking her head in to see Samar awake, her bed angled into a sitting position. “You want some company?” Liz asked cheerfully.

Samar looked up at the sound of Liz’s voice, her face brightening when she saw her friend in the doorway. “Always.”

Liz opened the door wider and walked over to Samar’s bedside, immediately reaching for her hand. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little better. The doctors tell me I’ll be out of here in a week at the most,” Samar replied.

“Shit, a week? Sorry.” Liz frowned sympathetically. She hated hospitals, and she assumed Samar did too.

“It’s alright. They’ve got the good pain meds here.” Samar smirked.

Liz chuckled, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Samar hadn’t seen many genuine smiles from Liz lately, much less smiles that reached her eyes. “ _You_ certainly seem to be in a better mood today,” she observed playfully, her face holding a questioning gaze.

Liz bit her lip, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Ahh, the stubborn ass listened to me, did he?” Samar asked with a furtive grin.

Liz threw her head back, laughing. The sound was like music to Samar’s ears.

Once she had her laughter under control, she looked back at Samar, nodding. “He listened.” She was beaming uncontrollably. “Thank you. You’re incredible.” She shook her head, in awe. “I mean, you almost _died_ and your first thought upon waking up was ‘I have to help my friend.’”

Samar shrugged. “I couldn’t sit idly by and watch the two of you so angry and hurt. We all deserve to be happy.”

Liz’s reply was immediate, insistent. “Including you, Samar. When the timing’s right, don’t forget that.”

Samar responded with a grateful smile, squeezing Liz’s hand. “I won’t.”

“Really, though. Thank you. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known.” With her free hand, Liz ran her fingers through Samar’s curls, bringing them to rest on her shoulder.

“I would say the same about you, so it looks like we’re even.” Samar grinned contentedly. She wasn’t a huge fan of hospitals – visitors brought a calm respite from the uneasiness.

At the sound of the door creaking open, their attention shifted.

Red.

Liz beamed at the sight of him. “Hey, you. What took so long? I thought you were just parking the car.”

“I made a quick stop at the gift shop,” Red replied, producing a plush cat from behind his back. He walked toward the bed, offering it to an amused, slightly surprised Samar. “Not quite as comforting as the real thing, but I think the doctors may have frowned upon me bringing my cat for a visit,” he explained.

Samar laughed, taking the gift from his outstretched hand. “Well, thank you, Reddington. This is quite sweet…and, um, unexpected of you.”

Liz stepped closer to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and leaning her head against him, her free hand against his chest. He instinctively brought his arm around her in return, holding her close.

“See, I tried to tell you, Samar. He’s a sweet softie at heart. Concierge of Crime, my ass.”

Red chuckled. “As true as that may be, don’t go spreading it around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Liz rolled her eyes, meeting Samar’s entertained gaze.

Red disentangled himself from Liz and stepped forward to take Samar’s hand in both of his own. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, my dear.”

Samar shook her head, but he continued before she could interrupt him. “I do. Thank you. For being so bluntly honest with me, for making me see how foolishly I handled things, for pointing out that happiness is worth the risk. And thank you for being there for my Lizzie while I was busy being an idiot. Thank you for taking care of her. You’re a remarkable woman.”

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, her eyes flickering with emotion at his words. “It’s been my pleasure, Reddington. I want you two to be happy. It pained me to see you both hurting unnecessarily.” She paused, a silent understanding passing between them – she could tell that he knew how grateful she was for him bringing her here to this new life, to her new friends. “Liz has been taking care of me, too, you know. You’d better be willing to share her,” Samar added, her face glowing as she glanced over at Liz.

Red gave Samar a more genuine smile than she would ever have thought him capable of. “It’s the least I can do.”

She could see the sincerity – and his respect for her – in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

On the day Samar was released from the hospital, Liz was there to drive her home. Once Samar was settled on her couch with easy access to a book and the TV remote, Liz’s face broke into an easy smile. “It’s so good to see you back at home.”

Samar mirrored her smile, leaning her head back into the cushions, with a relaxed sigh. “Agreed.”

Liz remained standing in front of Samar, bringing her hands together as if she meant business. “Alright, are you hungry? Are you feeling okay enough to eat real food?”

Samar nodded emphatically. “Real food sounds _amazing_.”

Liz grinned, practically giddy to tell Samar about the surprise she and Red had planned. “Good, because Red’s been cooking for hours, and he’s going to drop it off any minute!”

Samar’s eyes widened in disbelief, her expression quickly morphing into a look of grateful appreciation. “Liz, what-”

Liz cut her off. “It was his idea, not mine. Softie, remember? I can’t cook anything edible so _my_ idea was Chinese takeout, but he insisted you needed healthy, nutritious food. He’s _probably_ right.” She shrugged, a sudden smirk creasing the corners of her mouth. “But I _did_ convince him to bring some ice cream too.”

Samar let out an only-half-kidding sigh of relief. “Thank _god_. Real ice cream. That stuff at the hospital is practically inedible.”

“Trust me, I know. Which is why Red’s bringing us Ben & Jerry’s. I told him to get something chocolatey.”

“Elizabeth Keen, you are _officially_ the best.”

Liz chuckled, but was quickly interrupted by her phone dinging in her pocket. “That’ll be Red. I’ll go help him bring the food up. Be right back, okay?”

Samar nodded, burrowing down deeper into her pillows.

Before she knew it, her cozy, usually-silent apartment was filled with the happy voices of her friends and the smell of freshly-cooked food. As Liz put the ice cream in the freezer, Red set the food on the counter and then turned to Samar. “How are you feeling, Agent Navabi?”

“Much better. Thank you so much for making all this food. It smells delicious. And please, call me Samar.”

“You’re welcome, _Samar_. I hope you enjoy your first night back at home.” Red turned to the door, preparing to leave.

“Where are you going?” Samar asked, confused.

“This is girls’ night, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please stay for dinner,” Samar requested. “You went to all this trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Red assured her. “And I want you to have leftovers during your recovery.”

Samar smiled at him, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “If you insist. Thank you, Reddington.”

“Feel free to shorten that to Red if you’d like,” he offered. “I apologize, but only Lizzie has Raymond privileges as of now.” He grinned at Liz, tilting his chin up proudly. Liz strode over to him, leaning in for a quick kiss, and then Red was off, tossing a pleased “Have a lovely evening, ladies” over his shoulder as he left.

Liz quickly fixed up two heaping plates of food – chipotle-glazed chicken breast, rice, green beans, squash – and brought them to the couch, handing one to Samar. “Dig in! Red’s a great cook.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Samar’s stomach grumbled. She was hungrier than she’d realized. Getting shot in the abdomen and spending a week eating hospital food would do that to you, she supposed.

After the first several bites had sated the worst of her hunger, Samar spoke again. “So, I’ve been meaning to bring this up – Reddington has a _cat_?” she asked in utter disbelief, her brows raised, fork suspended in mid-air above her plate.

Liz burst out laughing, practically choking on the bite of chicken she had just begun to swallow. “That was _my_ reaction! It’s so unexpected, right?”

Samar nodded fervently in agreement.

“Only on the surface though. Not once you get to know him beyond the fancy suits and the criminal activity.” Samar’s snort interrupted her and Liz rolled her eyes lightheartedly at the implication. “I know, I know. I’m FBI agent of the year. But seriously, it’s all an act. Underneath, he’s just a lonely guy with a feline companion.”

Samar chuckled and took a bite of squash, looking thoughtful as she swallowed. “I may need to get a cat.”

Liz smirked. “To keep you company until you’re ready for an Aram?”

Samar sighed, playfully glaring at Liz, but she couldn’t contain her smile. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Don’t worry, the next girls’ night will involve alcohol. Once you’re off those pain meds.”

Samar laughed, one eyebrow raised, suspicious. “Are you trying to get me to drunkenly text Aram? Is that your goal here?”

Liz shrugged, a sly grin on her face. “Drunken confessions have worked out pretty well for me.”


End file.
